


Fate - Novus Ordo Seclorum

by benit149



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-08-20 07:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 98,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16551797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benit149/pseuds/benit149
Summary: Connla story #3. Having fallen into a deep sleep, Connla is taken to a completely different world where she experiences the life of an identical version of herself, caught in the events of a different Fifth Singularity. This time, she must make the choice of whether or not to remain by the Mad King's side, or to follow her heart and abandon his destructive conquest.





	1. Celtic Princess

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 1: Celtic Princess**

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This and any future stories involving Connla will assume that you have read both _Fate/Laoch Gan Finsceal_ _and_ _Fate/Outside Experience_ , so some details already covered there will not be explained here. If you haven't read those, I recommend you do so before this one so you aren't too confused.

* * *

In one of the many bedchambers designated to the Servants of Chaldea, a purple-haired Lancer slept deeply, unable to be roused by any sort of external stimuli. Her True Name was Connla, the Child of Cuchulainn and one of Fujimaru Ritsuka’s Servants. Although she didn’t have the power or stamina that the adults possessed, she was notable for her ridiculous speed and disturbingly youthful age. At only seven years old, she was genuinely the youngest Heroic Spirit in the entire roster, but it proved to be a constant detriment because she couldn’t last long in the deadlier battles without help.

The previous day, Connla had just survived an assault from the Berserker version of the Arthurian hero Lancelot. Normally she was not capable of fighting dangerous Servants of such high caliber, but thanks to some quick thinking and external intervention, she managed to squeak out a narrow victory. Unfortunately, she fell into a deep coma immediately upon returning to headquarters, and remained unresponsive for the last 24 hours. One of the four versions of the Heroic Spirit Cuchulainn – the terrifying Berserker who called himself Alter – watched over her condition vigilantly.

As he observed her sleeping, a strange thought crossed his mind:

_I may not remember much of that Singularity, but I’m pretty sure Connla was not involved in that one. I shudder to think of what would’ve happened if she saw me spreading chaos and destruction upon the United States._

He was referring to one of the seven core Singularities that all of Chaldea was tasked with correcting in order to preserve humanity’s history. In particular, the fifth of these Singularities would be written in Chaldea’s records as _E Pluribus Unum_ , or ‘out of many, one’, because it was a war that took place in colonial America between the United Western States and the eastern Celtic armies ruled by Queen Medb and the irregular Mad King Cuchulainn. Ritsuka, her Servants, and the friends they met along the way initially refused to ally themselves with the Presi-King Thomas Edison due to his warped belief in saving the country before the world, but after some ‘convincing’ (read: fighting), they settled their differences and unified to defeat the Celts, thereby resolving the Singularity.

That was the incident that Chaldea was familiar with. However, in this vast universe full of parallel dimensions and infinite possibilities, it wasn’t necessarily true that this was the one and only _E Pluribus Unum_ that ever occurred. Cuchulainn didn’t know it, but Connla’s mind was so far away that it felt like she was in a near-death state. She was being pulled further and further away from home, losing control of herself and being absorbed into a different person’s mind.

What Connla was tapping into as she slept was beyond imagination; this was the memory essence of another version of herself who was involved in a very similar incident to the Fifth Singularity. It was a mystery how and/or why one Connla in a completely different dimension could extend her memories to the Connla who worked at Chaldea. What was the point of showing her an event that no one would ever have any record of? Was it some kind of message? A warning? Or perhaps just a long-gone girl’s desire to pass her story on to an equivalent of herself? It was impossible to know the answer for sure.

However, just as Chaldea’s Cuchulainn Alter was exposed to the memories of the _E Pluribus Unum_ and _Laoch Gan Finsceal_ versions of himself, Connla was also experiencing memories that didn’t belong to her, yet felt completely natural because they were lived out by someone almost identical to her. There was nothing she could do to control what she saw. She was but a passenger in someone else’s life as she slept through one of the most intense dreams she ever had. It wasn’t real to her, but it _was_ real to someone else at some time, and that made the events depicted here all the more compelling.

As Cuchulainn feared, this was an _E Pluribus Unum_ that would involve Connla, whereas the other one never even mentioned her whatsoever. What her role would be in this retelling was anyone’s guess, as events and characters from one story never followed the same paths in a parallel universe. Nonetheless, she was going to witness everything firsthand as if she had been there…

* * *

**Alternate Fifth Singularity – A.D. 1783**

**Humanity Foundation Value: A+**

**North American Myth War: Novus Ordo Seclorum**

**The Divided Princess**

_Ben Nevis, Scotland, July 1782_

High in the mountains of Scotland was a lone hut, which was home to only two people – a mother named Aife and her daughter Connla. They were miles away from any civilization, and the mother relied upon a single horse she owned to get around. Aife selected this place to live on purpose, since she was inhumanly cruel to her daughter and didn’t want the child to be influenced by anyone other than her. Connla wasn’t regarded as a beloved offspring, but as a scullery maid who served her mother and was rewarded with both physical and mental abuse. The unloving mother would hide behind the excuse that her daughter needed to ‘be tough in order to face the world’s cruelty’, but in reality, Aife flat out despised Connla’s existence and wanted to watch her suffer.

On this day, Aife ordered Connla to gather some food out in the wild. It didn’t matter if there were demon boars, werewolves and other forms of monster life lurking out there – Connla had to make do by surviving with her fighting skills. With the girl out of the house for a while, Aife could kick back and read in peace and quiet.

“Hah… Nothing like a sunny afternoon to myself,” she murmured to herself and reached for her book.

That was when she heard some kind of banging coming from outside. She scowled in consternation and though, _Damn that worthless girl. Is she causing trouble again?_

The warrior woman got up from her chair and went to the door to investigate…

* * *

Several hours later, an exhausted Connla returned to the hut with a decent haul of fruits and vegetables she gathered. She had to use all of her strength to carry the heavy basket, knowing that Aife would not be satisfied unless she came back with enough to last a few days.

_If only I had the strength to bring back that boar I killed, I could’ve made a nice stew for us…_

Just because she was finished gathering didn’t mean her arduous chores were over. Despite how tired she was, the six-year old now had to worry about making dinner and cleaning up before she was permitted to go to bed. There was no way to know if Aife would dump other tasks on her from out of nowhere as well. Connla had to stay alert and be prepared for anything before she could hit her head on the pillow without being whipped.

As she rounded the bend to the house, she noticed that the door was left wide open and was swaying in the wind. She looked over at the stable and saw that her mother’s horse was missing. Her skin blanched, and she rushed up to see where the animal was – she knew that it was Aife’s most precious possession, perhaps even more important than Connla was. If the horse was gone, she knew she was going to be bedridden with serious wounds for several days. She looked around thoroughly, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Faced with no other choice, Connla called out, “Mother?”

No response. The little girl ran up to the creaking front door and was not greeted with her mother’s usual austere expression, which worried her. She stepped inside and went to the kitchen.

That was the moment when her life would change dramatically.

Connla found Aife splayed in an awkward sitting position on the floor. Copious amounts of blood spattered the wall from a gaping stab wound in her chest. The dead woman’s eyes bulged wide open in frozen horror, and her jaw remained dropped as low as could be. A gaunt man that Connla had never met before stood over the corpse, with the tip of his jagged spear dripping with blood.

She didn’t notice that she had dropped her basket, scattering food all over the floor. The clattering sound attracted the stranger’s attention, and he turned toward the child. She couldn’t get a good look at the man, but even though his form was silhouetted against the sunlight shining in the window, she could tell that he was absolutely terrifying. He was so tall that she felt like an ant compared to him. Speaking of inspects, his massive tail resembled a centipede’s, and he had jutted spikes all over his legs and arms. He wore a dark hood over his face and hair, so she wasn’t able to make out his features at first. At first glance the man looked like a monster out of mythology, but Connla understood enough to know that he was as human as she was – that only served to make him even more frightening in her view.

He didn’t say anything. He just kept his lips tightly shut while fixing his shining red eyes upon her. His expression was cold and terrifying to all who met him. Yet in that very moment, there seemed to be a hint of maudlinism that softened him up a bit. There was no way she would ever recognize it in her current state of mind though.

_I have to… run fast… and… get out of here… I have to… escape… before he…_

Over and over again, she commanded her legs to carry her out of here as quickly as possible. Her body refused to respond. She was rooted there in absolute fear over what the man did to her mother, and of what he could possibly do to her. If she did anything wrong, she would be lying on the ground as another bloody corpse…

“Are we done here?”

Connla squealed, her nerves jolting to life as if she had jumped out of her own skin. An unknown woman’s voice broke the silence between child and killer. Before Connla knew it, a pink-haired lady dressed in white fur, a skirt and knee boots casually walked past her toward the man.

“Yeah,” he responded dully. “She was weak now as she was back then. I have no idea what I was thinking, copulating with such a pathetic wino. If I could slaughter that immature self of mine, I’d do it in an instant to save myself the disgrace of sleeping with a bona fide harlot.”

“Well, think of the small blessings in life,” the lady giggled, hardly bothered by the bloody mess in front of her. “After all-“

She glanced at the panic-stricken Connla with a jubilant smile.

“-your daughter is a real cutie! Almost like a princess! I can’t wait to doll her up and bring her to America for everyone to see! What did you say her name was?”

The killer replied evenly. “I told that wench to name the kid Connla, no matter if it was a boy or a girl.”

That made the child lose her grip on any rational thought. The blood-soaked murderer knew who she was. He had come to murder Aife and do something to her. Kill her? Kidnap her? Torture her? Even if she ran away, would these two just find her again? Was she even fast enough to outrun that beast of a man? Her mind literally collapsed on itself like a weakened pillar, and she blacked out.

The last memory she had was of the man rushing up to her and snatching her head with his arm as she fell.

* * *

_Six months later_

_Norfolk, Virginia, February 1783_

A bitter cold wind howled through the port town, and a passing snowstorm sprinkled the ground and ocean with chilly white fluff. Despite these frigid conditions, a sailing vessel docked in the pier, and its sailors prepared to disembark. The ensign raised upon its mast was fully green save for the symbol of a golden harp in the center. This was the emblem of Ireland that existed from the 1550s until 1800, long before the modern tricolor motif was adopted as the national flag. In this world, the Celts carried the green flag during their earlier invasions of America’s original 13 colonies, eventually decimating both American and British forces who dared to oppose them.

No longer was this country the location for historic battles and struggles between the Americans, the British, the Native Americans, or even Confederate versus Union anymore. The foundation behind the United States’ past was rapidly crumbling thanks to the Celts asserting sudden dominance over the west. It only took half a year before they thoroughly eliminated any resistance and forced the surviving Americans out west to unfamiliar territories.

Now it was approaching the late winter days of 1783. The ship, bound from Ireland, took a month to sail the Atlantic Ocean before reaching its destination in Virginia. Although it was cold and the waters were tumultuous at times, the trip was otherwise uneventful. Today was an especially auspicious day for the Celts because the boat carried an important guest for them to greet. Once the sailors made anchor, they hurried along to unload barrels and wooden boxes full of cargo.

Meanwhile, two men on horses awaited the arrival of their guest. One man had long blonde hair and wore silver armor, while the other had messy black hair with a lock over his forehead, and he wore a green bodysuit beneath a surcoat. The blonde-haired fellow glanced at his partner and grinned, “We finally get to meet the rumored Celtic Princess that everyone’s been talking about.”

“Yes, this certainly is a day to be remembered,” the other man replied. “This will go down in history as the young lady’s very first welcome to these lands. Since she is expected to rule the new nation that the king and queen will create, she will have much to do in the way of restoring order from the chaos they leave behind.”

“I knew you would be eager to escort her to the White House. After all, you always did have a soft spot for the ladies. Isn’t that right, Diarmuid?”

The black-haired man objected profusely, “That’s not true at all! Besides, it’s always the other way around! I’m only here to act as the princess’ guard! Don’t misconstrue the situation, Lord Fionn!”

“Heh heh heh! I’m just kidding! I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. The princess just had her seventh birthday, so she’s much too young to be falling for older men like us.”

“Geez… But still, I was really surprised when the king announced that his successor existed. Who would’ve imagined that such a beast of a man would have had children, given his indifferent attitude towards everyone?”

“I don’t really know the details,” Fionn muttered, then shrugged. “It’s better not to know, to be honest.”

“Agreed. Oh, here she comes!”

Diarmuid and Fionn dismounted their steeds and walked up to the platform, where they saw a delegation of Celtic soldiers guiding a purple-haired girl. She wore a long white dress with a green mantle over one shoulder, and a pine green tabard emblazoned with the same golden harp as the one on the flag. Her gaze seemed languid and her expression dispassionate.

“Lord Fionn, Sir Diarmuid, the princess is ready for you,” a druid announced and passed her off to them.

“Good work,” Fionn dismissed them, then kneeled in front of the child and said, “So you’re Connla, the rumored Child of Cuchulainn? Welcome to America, the land of opportunity and promise.”

Diarmuid handed her a bouquet of flowers and said, “Congratulations on your seventh birthday. I heard it happened while you were en route here, so I’ve asked the servants to prepare you something special.”

Connla didn’t say anything. She stared at the arrangement of red roses, white lilies and ultramarine delphiniums, hoping that the vibrant colors would give her some escape from this bleak, snowy afternoon.

“Are you all right?” Fionn asked, noticing her dispirited countenance.

“Y-Yes, I am,” she finally answered in a meek whisper. “I’m just… kind of tired.”

“No wonder. You must have had a long journey. The king wanted you to arrive as soon as possible, so we should get going now.”

Diarmuid allowed her to get on his horse first before mounting it behind her. The knights proceeded to escort her towards the captured White House, where the king and queen of the Celts had established their throne early in their conquest. Along the way, Diarmuid said to Connla, “I wanted to ask you something. From what I understand, the king made his announcement about you six months ago, but prior to that, there was never any mention of you. What happened? How did he come to have you without telling anyone until now?”

“Well…” Connla murmured. “I was living in Scotland with my mother Aife. She refused to tell me anything about my father, and was very harsh and strict with me. It was just the two of us for a long time. Then all of a sudden, I came home to find Mother dead by the hands of a complete stranger wielding a terrifying spear. I fainted when I saw him, so I think he took me to Connacht while I was unconscious.

“After I woke up, Queen Medb told me everything. That man was my father Cuchulainn… Or rather, a twisted version of him that she used the Holy Grail to wish into existence as a king. I’m not really sure how she obtained the Grail, but she and Father have been relying on its powers to overthrow western Europe so there would be no resistance against them when they turned their attention to the new continent. Father must have heard about me being alive in this period and hunted Mother down so he could take me back to Ireland.”

“Even if it is our king we’re talking about, killing Aife in front of you was too much,” Fionn frowned. “I can’t say I’m surprised though, given the state that he’s been summoned in. He’ll destroy even the gods if they dare to defy him.”

Connla lowered her head and sighed despondently. Diarmuid noticed this and asked her, “How do you feel about all of this?”

“… What does it matter?”

“Come now, you mustn’t say that.”

“But it’s true. Father is too violent to listen to anyone. I’ve heard that he’ll even ignore Queen Medb at times. If I say anything to upset him, either directly or through word of mouth, he’ll murder me without a second thought.”

“That’s not true! You don’t know how much Cuchulainn has been waiting with bated breath for your arrival! Perhaps with you around, his murderous cravings might be quelled enough that he won’t turn on his own soldiers anymore.”

“What’s the point?” Connla moaned. “Queen Medb will just create more minions to replace them anyway. It doesn’t matter if I’m his daughter – if he sees me as the enemy, I’m as good as dead. It wouldn’t surprise me if the queen creates a duplicate of me after Father kills me over some trivial thing. They should’ve just done that in the first place and left me alone in Scotland.”

“Princess…” Diarmuid whispered.

“Cuchulainn wouldn’t have done that,” Fionn retorted sharply. “We all know how rapidly this world has been incinerated over the past few years. Little by little, everything is turning into a pure white wasteland that cannot support life. I believe he was in a hurry to find you because the incineration had already claimed all but western Europe and North America.”

“Incinerated, huh?” Connla muttered under her breath and looked up at the sky. Constantly looming over the world was a mysterious, gigantic halo of light. It resembled a solar eclipse, with a tremendous moon positioned in front of a sun that was so intensely bright that it would affect even a truly blind person. She could tell that it was not a thing of beauty to be admired, but rather an unnatural phenomenon that was to be greatly feared. Whatever it was, it first appeared around the time Connla was born, and scholars across the world agreed that this halo’s existence was the reason why the planet was dying.

_Even if Father and Queen Medb succeed in taking this country for the Celts, is there going to be a way to survive the imminent destruction?_

Fionn saw her forlorn expression and assured, “Don’t worry. I’m sure they have some kind of plan to allow this nation to conquer even the incineration. Cuchulainn wouldn’t bother naming a successor if he didn’t.”

“Hm…”

They eventually reached the White House and left the horses in their stables. Fionn and Diarmuid escorted Connla up the steps leading to the front entrance, which was stationed with a perfect lineup of Celtic soldiers to greet their princess. The building’s exterior had been repurposed so that instead of patriotic American symbols, there were instead effigies of dragons and monsters. They first came into the Diplomatic Reception Room, where more soldiers and servants bowed at her, then the knights escorted her upstairs to the Entrance Hall and took her to the East Room, where the banquet hall was located.

The two knights opened the double doors and beckoned her to enter. It was already a pell-mell of merry laughter and celebration, with Queen Medb sitting at the head of the banquet table entertaining several of the Celts’ higher ranking soldiers and Servants. The long tables were crammed with extravagant platters of expensive food, alcohol and wines that Connla had never seen before. She looked around vapidly at the people gathered for the meal. One man was particularly muscular and always had his eyes closed, another brute fellow was covered from head to toe in nasty scars, and a dark-skinned man who wore white clothes quietly sipped his glass of wine.

Once Medb saw Connla, she yelped in pure joy and ran up to the timid child, exclaiming, “Oh, there you are, Connie! I was getting worried about you!”

“It’s… been a while, madam…” Connla mumbled. “Is there something special going on?”

“Don’t be silly, sweetie. It’s your birthday, remember? Plus, it’s your first day in a brand new land. Such a historic occasion should be celebrated as much as possible! Come on, take your seat here.”

The queen took the child’s hand and guided her to an empty seat, where a couple of maids prepared a plate of food for their important guest. Connla sat down, but wasn’t eager to start eating. She was extremely nervous from all of the noise that the party was causing. She had never been to anything so loud and rambunctious back when she lived in the mountains.

Diarmuid noticed her hesitation and asked, “Are you not feeling well, Princess?”

“I’m fine.”

She forced herself to take the fork and eat some duck meat to show him that there was nothing wrong. As she ate, she looked around at everyone as they chatted amongst themselves, some looking more drunk than others. For being the guest of honor, she realized that not many people were paying attention to her, but she wasn’t going to complain. Unlike most European cultures, the Celts were not so strict about being formal around their royalty, so she already had an idea that it would be this way. Besides, Connla didn’t really feel like she belonged in such a high class setting anyway.

About half an hour later, one of the attendants approached Medb and announced, “The king has arrived.”

Medb gasped happily and looked back to see the lethargic Cuchulainn walk toward the tables. The jubilant queen ran up to him and exclaimed, “Good evening, my liege. As you can see, the festivities are already underway. I tried to stop them from eating before you woke up, but they wouldn’t listen to me. Can you believe it?”

He ignored her and panned his eyes along the room until he caught sight of Connla. She too met his gaze for a moment, then immediately averted her eyes and nervously stared at her hands on her lap.

“Well, at least you’re in time for Connie to blow out her candles,” Medb said and returned to her seat, ordering the servants to bring out an extravagantly decorated cake. Seven candles flickered on top, and the child’s blank eyes were transfixed on their light.

Before anyone could say or do anything, Cuchulainn silently approached her and kneeled next to her. In his hand was a small box that he opened, revealing a golden ring with red markings. He took her right hand and nestled the band upon the thumb, since it was the only finger large enough to wear it. He murmured, “Your mother was supposed to give this to you when you came of age, as the symbol of a promise for you to journey to Ireland and meet me. The world’s incineration forced me to look for you early though, so now this will serve as your proof of lineage. As of now, you are the Celtic Princess who will succeed me and revive this nation from the ashes that my conquest will leave behind.”

“…”

“Think of it as a birthday present as well,” he muttered bitterly, then grinned, “This must be the first time you’ve ever gotten something nice.”

“… Um.”

“Hm?”

“Can I… ask you something?”

“What is it?”

Connla looked at the tiered white cake, all decorated in green, white and yellow candy flowers, and prettied up with frosting bows that could be mistaken for real silk ribbons. She looked at all of the food, guests and servants who had their collective attention focused on her. She looked at Cuchulainn and Medb as they eagerly awaited to answer her question. After a frightfully long pause, she finally murmured something:

“What’s a birthday?”

Cuchulainn’s eyes widened. Medb’s exuberant smile disappeared immediately. A piercing chill hit everyone else in the core. The jovial atmosphere was gone, replaced with bitter silence. Connla’s vapid expression was made more eerie by the flickering candles illuminating her cheeks in the darkness. The king wasn’t sure how to respond to her disturbing question, other than to sigh and stand back up.

“… Diarmuid,” he commanded the Fianna knight.

“Sire,” he stood at attention.

“Connla’s exhausted. Show her to her room and prepare her for bed.”

“At once.”

The black-haired warrior took the girl’s hand and had her follow him through the White House until they reached her assigned quarters. Back in the dining hall, Medb grumbled, “Oh, what a waste. We had this whole thing ready for her, and she didn’t even know what we were celebrating.”

“Aife is to blame,” Cuchulainn scowled. “She completely denied that child the right to live as a human being.”

“How distasteful. Such ignorance is hardly befitting of the next queen in line. I will have to arrange for that repugnant vixen’s hatred to be completely wiped clean from Connie’s memory so that she can be fashioned into appropriate royalty. Before you know it, she will become the perfect Celtic Princess that our forces will fight hard for. We will destroy everything and everyone that opposes us, then have Connie plant the new seeds for a bright future where we Celts rule everything.”

“…”

“Isn’t that right, Cu?”

“Be quiet. I’m aching to kill something right now.”

“Another hunt so soon?” Medb smiled.

“Yeah. I think I’ll go destroy some Resistance hideouts or something.”

Cuchulainn summoned Gae Bolg in his hand and departed the White House for his evening prowl. His urge to murder someone, _anyone_ , reached a boiling point upon realizing just how badly deprived Connla was of love and nurturing this whole time. Here he was running around doing whatever the hell he wanted, while she was trapped beneath Aife’s oppressive foot this whole time. The only way this twisted version of Cuchulainn could dispel his self-hatred for neglecting Connla was to slaughter some enemies, lest he wind up turning on his own allies to satisfy his barbaric cravings. The last thing he wanted was for her to witness more death and bloodshed by his hands.


	2. Escape From the Gilded Prison

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 2: Escape From the Gilded Prison**

Three months later, it was now approaching the mid-spring season, and the temperature had risen considerably to melt all of the winter snow away. The full moon hung over the picture-perfect night sky, surrounded by countless shining stars. The twinkling sky blanketed all of America in darkness, with only these few astrological bodies to provide any sort of illumination. Even though it was in the middle of the East-West war, this time of hour was the only reprieve that both sides had before they would wake up and brandish their weapons again. It was in this midnight silence that a pair of frantically running footsteps dashed through the forests at the border of western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio.

_… What am I doing?_

That question kept repeating itself over and over in Connla’s mind. All through her trek across Pennsylvania, she kept asking herself why she was running. Indeed, she had abandoned the White House at the first sign she believed everyone else was asleep, and ran nonstop during the earlier part of the night. Although she had her doubts, she refused to stop. She desperately wanted to make distance between herself and the Celtic headquarters. Her innate speed plus some assistance from a few Runes made it possible for her to go as quickly as she did, but she still felt it wasn’t enough.

_Father… Queen Medb… How will they react when they find out I’m gone?_

The thought of facing Cuchulainn’s fury spurred Connla on. The man was frightening enough without angering him over her desertion. She had the ability to fight, but she couldn’t fathom being able to defeat Ireland’s most celebrated hero in a duel to the death. She failed to do so in her lifetime, so trying to battle him again would definitely end in the same result. All of the other Celtic warriors and various Servants who joined their cause would not agree with her decision either.

Not only did she have to contend with lack of moral support, there was also the issue of where she was going to run to. If the world wasn’t being incinerated, she would have gladly ran north to British North America, where the future country of Canada would be born. Unfortunately, the incineration caught up to those lands and destroyed them. Going straight south wasn’t an option either since the destruction encroached all of South America already. America was literally the only viable land remaining in existence. The only choice she had left was to head west, straight into the territories controlled by the United Western States.

_Just keep going straight. Don’t try to go anywhere else. If I can just make it to Denver, everything will be fine._

Connla knew the lay of the land and who owned which territories from the maps she studied in the White House’s war room. She even brought a copy just to be sure, although her path wouldn’t be a particularly difficult one. From her research, she understood that the Western States maintained their stronghold in Denver, Colorado, which was literally across the country from Washington where the Celts were fortified. Her plan was to surrender to the enemy and divulge any information she had in exchange for protection. She didn’t know who the West’s supporters were, but she believed that they possessed more reason than the Celts to listen to her pleas.

There was just one small problem with her plan…

_How long is it going to take for me to get there? With the war raging on, it may take me longer than expected to reach the West. What if Father’s Servants catch up to me in the meantime? Or even worse… What if Father personally searched for me? Or what if the West’s forces don’t listen to me? Would I have to find some other place to lay low for a while?_

Connla shook her head. She needed to keep faith in her strategy. She had a gut feeling that the West would want to take advantage of a Celtic dissenter. She didn’t mind if it meant being looked down upon or expected to do grueling work for them – she preferred being safe and treated like a person than being forced to live out a fantasy life while surrounded by murderous psychopaths.

As the very first signs of daybreak began to show themselves, the young Servant had reached the banks of Lake Erie in northern Ohio. The moon and stars faded, giving way to the rising sun and the brightening sky. She opted to take a short break at the lake’s banks and sat upon a rock while observing the water. She was still feeling rather excited from making such a momentous decision, so she took some deep breaths to calm her nerves.

* * *

At around the same time, Diarmuid was already up and heading towards Connla’s room in the White House. He knocked on the door and said, “Princess, breakfast has been prepared for you.”

He didn’t hear any response. Worry immediately gripped the dutiful knight’s chest, and he opened the door while announcing, “Pardon the intrusion. I’m coming in.”

He stepped in and found her bed occupied. He opened the curtains to let in what little sunlight there was at the moment, although he noticed some thick clouds coming in from the distance and figured it was going to rain later today. Normally Connla was prudent enough to be up and dressed already, so he was curious to see her still in bed, evidenced by the unmoving lump beneath the blankets.

“I know you must be tired, but you mustn’t keep your tutor waiting,” Diarmuid said, grabbing the top of the blanket and pulling it back. To his astonishment, all he could see were some futons wrapped with string that had been left behind to mimic the child’s sleeping form.

“Princess!?” he exclaimed, his heart leaping from shock. “Hey, Princess! Where are you!?”

He scrambled around in her room, searching every nook and cranny for the girl. When he couldn’t find her, he barged out of her room and went to look for Fionn. He found his fellow knightly companion patrolling the halls. Diarmuid gasped and asked as quietly as he could, “Sir, are the king and queen awake yet?”

“They’re in the throne room already. Apparently there’s been word of a powerful Servant being summoned that the resistance forces have recruited, and Cuchulainn wants to deal with it as soon as possible,” Fionn explained. “What seems to be the matter? You look unusually pale.”

“The princess is missing.”

“Oh, dear. This makes things rather complicated.”

“I’ve looked everywhere for her, but she is nowhere to be found. She might have been kidnapped!”

“I wonder about that,” Fionn frowned. “The West may have the forces to rival us, but I don’t believe they are capable of sneaking past our lines just to kidnap a child.”

“W-What are you suggesting!? That she ran away!?”

“Calm yourself. I’m not suggesting anything so sordid. In any case, you get the horses ready. I will inform Cuchulainn, then join you in the search.”

“Of course!”

Diarmuid ran off toward the stables, while Fionn went to the throne room where he found Cuchulainn sitting upon the royal chair, with Medb leaning against him as if he were a human pillow. One of their strategists was explaining the situation to them when Fionn prostrated and said, “Sire, there’s been a slight emergency.”

“What is it?” Cuchulainn grumbled deeply.

“Diarmuid just informed me that Miss Connla has gone missing.”

The king’s languid expression didn’t seem to change much. “… Is that so?”

“Oh, what a troublesome one she is,” Medb complained. “Just when we were about to go kill that Heroic Spirit too.”

“Worry not, your Highness,” Fionn assured. “Diarmuid and I will search for her posthaste, so that you may focus your efforts on the conquest without worry.”

“Say, Cu. Do you think Connie has betrayed us?” the queen wondered. “She has been looking rather depressed lately. Her tutors told me that she probably doesn’t have what it takes to be a proper princess.”

“P-Please do not say such absurd things!” the white-armored knight objected, irked that the queen was ignoring him. “Though she might not be in high spirits, there’s no way she would abandon us like that! Besides, where would she run to anyway!? There is nowhere to go except west!”

Cuchulainn grin was dark and ominous as he murmured, “Perhaps that’s precisely where she went.”

“What…?”

“Stop wasting my time and go look for her. Drag her back kicking and screaming if you have to. Of course, if she really does sell herself out to the West, then it means she will no longer serve any purpose to me. Should she actually ally herself with them, then destroy her. Make her death as painless as possible, if you are able to do so.”

“S-Sir!” Fionn gasped, but immediately stopped when he saw the fierce look in the king’s ruby eyes. “I… understand, sir.”

The anxious knight left his superiors be, but a strange thought crossed his mind.

_Is it just me, or did Cuchulainn not look as surprised as I thought he would be?_

* * *

_The next day…_

“Hah… hah… hah…”

Deep in the middle of central America’s deserts, a deadly battle waged on between two powerful Heroic Spirits. On one side was Cuchulainn, clad in his characteristic black spiked armor and dark hood, wielding a deep purple version of the cursed spear Gae Bolg. On the other side was a handsome young man with fiery red hair that turned blonde at the crown of his head. He wore Indian battle attire consisting of a red shirt, black gloves with golden claws, black pants and boots, and a white cape around his waist. He wielded a large saber that was as tall as he was, currently covered in the blood of many Celtic warriors that he had slain previously before getting into his death match with Cuchulainn.

This man was known as Rama, the hero of the Indian epic known as _Ramayana_. He was a king and powerful warrior who was the reincarnation of the Hindu god Vishnu, and the mortal enemy of the Demon King Ravana. Along with an army of monkeys that he commanded, Rama fought against Ravana for 14 long years. Therefore, it stood to reason that Rama had the charisma and experience needed to rally an army to rise against an oppressive king. That was why Cuchulainn was eager to fight him as soon as possible so he never got the chance to rival him.

Although Rama was strong in his own right, he had only just been summoned to this doomed world a few days ago. Cuchulainn already had more than a year’s worth of experience here, so he clearly had the upper hand. Rama gripped his blade and breathed hard, astonished by his opponent’s inhuman might and viciousness.

“You’re still moving?” the Mad King glowered. “Punks like you should learn when to get out of my sight.”

Rama let out a battle cry and tried to strike again, but Cuchulainn effortlessly sidestepped him and slashed at his ribcage. The swordsman gasped and uttered, “So many curses cover your body… They are enough to shoulder an entire nation… Such skill has only been achieved through sheer determination and willpower! You could have conquered the very concepts of good and evil! So then why!? Why have you degraded yourself to be as repugnant and corrupted as Ravana!?”

“Good? Evil? I don’t care about such things. All I do is kill my enemies, or die by their hands. The law of battle is the only thing I follow.”

“Don’t make me laugh! Your ‘law’ can only result in mountains of corpses! I can understand fighting an opponent of equal strength, but to do such things to innocent civilians who cannot even hope to challenge you is outrageous!”

“How utterly trivial. There’s no point in judging an enemy’s worth – ‘strength’ and ‘weakness’ are irrelevant on the battlefield. War is not meant to be fought humanely. Otherwise, go work at a ranch, punk.”

“Ungh…” Rama seethed. “Why…? Why are you slaughtering everyone so callously? It’s as if they’re in the way of something…”

Cuchulainn closed his lips, appearing even colder than before. Then he glowered with a smile, “Yeah, they are. They’re in the way of achieving my dream.”

“Your dream…?”

“Ponder that after I run you through with my thorn of death.”

“Damn you! **Brahmastra!** ”

Rama used his sword to summon a huge halo of pure light, then hurled it at Cuchulainn. His injuries caused his aim to be off a bit, and the spearman took advantage of that by blocking it with his weapon. Confident that his enemy had used the last of his strength, the Celtic warrior called out the name of his own Noble Phantasm.

**“Gae Bolg!”**

Rama couldn’t comprehend the excruciating pain that seared through his chest and destroyed 80% of his heart. Cuchulainn extracted the spear out of the young man’s chest, but was surprised to see him still standing even though he was losing a tremendous amount of blood out of the ghastly hole.

“Tch. True heroes can be such a nuisance,” Cuchulainn spit at the ground.

“No… I can’t… die here…” Rama heaved, struggling to stay on his feet. “Not until… I see… Sita…”

The other warrior wondered who his fallen foe was talking about, but he didn’t really care. Even then, he seemed to feel a tinge of kinship from those words. He grinned and murmured, “Too bad for you, but I can’t die here either. Not until I forge the ideal world of peace and quiet that she can enjoy.”

“W-Who is… she…?”

Before Cuchulainn could respond, that was when they heard a series of gunfire rounds peppering the dirt around them. Rama suddenly felt himself being carried away by a tanned man with long black hair, while Cuchulainn was busy deflecting the bullets with deft whirls of his spear.

“Servant response confirmed. Commencing countermeasures,” a strange robot that clearly didn’t belong in this time period droned.

“The West’s toys, huh?” the Celtic warrior grumbled, annoyed that his slaughter was interrupted. He turned his attention from Rama toward the Western forces’ mechanized infantry and a troop of soldiers that had joined the fray. “So you guys want to get in my way? Heh heh. That’s fine. That just means you’re my enemies now. Allow me to extend my appreciation for giving me this new battlefield by killing all of you!”

“Ungh… W-What’s going… on…?” Rama grunted, his mind going in and out of consciousness.

“Just come with me!” the tanned man exclaimed. “We must trust them to distract him enough so that we may escape!”

Before he could comprehend what was happening, the Indian hero finally passed out.

* * *

At the very same time back in Ohio, Connla was perched high in a tree, looking very much like she was hiding from someone. She kept her frantic breathing to a minimum as she peered down at the grass below her. She heard the sound of horse hooves galloping into the immediate area, then spotted Diarmuid riding in on his black steed.

 _This is bad,_ she thought. _How on earth did Sir Diarmuid catch up to me so quickly?_

“Princess!” the knight called out after spotting her in her hiding spot. “You must not go any further! Please, return with me to the White House!”

“I can’t!” she objected fearfully. “I just can’t do it! I can’t live up to everyone’s expectations like this!”

“Whatever do you mean!? You have done nothing to disappoint the king and queen! They are fighting so that you may have a peaceful future!”

“That’s a lie! I’ve heard all about it! Thousands of people have died such horrible, needless deaths! Even if Father and Queen Medb succeed in turning America into a Celtic nation for me, it won’t change the fact that I will have blood on my hands!”

“You’re wrong! We are all on your side, Princess! We will do everything in our power to support you after the war is over!”

“If you’re really on my side, then you wouldn’t be chasing me down like this! You would’ve accepted my decision and left me be! You’re just trying to capture me so you can stay in Father’s good books!”

“No! That’s not true at all!”

“Stop trying to deceive me! I’m just an excuse for you all to go on a killing spree! I won’t have anything further to do with such brutality! Just leave me alone!”

Connla then leapt from tree to tree to try and lose Diarmuid. He commanded his horse to pursue her, but he was finding her to be a lot faster than he imagined. Already she had broken out into the clearing and was dashing through the tall grass and foliage with all her might. Even with his horse running at full speed, he was having trouble keeping up with her. He remembered Cuchulainn saying that while Connla wasn’t particularly powerful as a Servant, her speed and agility were legendary among all Heroic Spirits. Dairmuid had found this out the hard way when he agreed to be her combat instructor and dueled her a couple of times to gauge her abilities. That was why he wasn’t too surprised about trailing behind her, so he needed to think of a way to corral her first.

Connla likewise understood that Diarmuid couldn’t catch her in an honest to goodness chase, so he would have to rely on some sort of dirty tactic to trap her. She didn’t want to give him the chance, so she looked around for any place that she could use to slip out of his sight. She passed over Scioto River by leaping from any rocks she could find jutting in the running water, then kept going west toward Miami River. Along the way though, she caught sight of an intense battle raging between some Western infantry versus the Celtic warriors and various monsters they brought. It was around 1000 strong on each side, and there were already plenty of casualties.

_It’s risky, but maybe I can lose him in the middle of this battlefield._

Connla decided to gamble everything on rushing headlong into the chaos, making sure she didn’t interfere with the battle itself by weaving around the numerous soldiers so quickly that they failed to notice her passing by.

 _“Princess!”_ Diarmuid screamed, appalled that she would pull off such a daring stunt. He too wouldn’t falter and galloped his horse straight into the foray. Unfortunately for him, he was a much easier target for the mechanized infantry to spot and shoot their guns at. The knight’s steed was shot down in a hail of bullets, so he had to abandon the dead animal and leap off, wielding his dual lances and unleashing a battle cry as he stabbed them clean through one robot.

While Diarmuid was preoccupied, Connla managed to break through and escape without the soldiers getting in her way. She didn’t stop though – she had to keep moving her feet and make as much distance as possible between her and her pursuer. The sounds of battle gradually faded to silence as she made her way toward Miami River.

_I might actually be able to do this!_

Confident that she had finally lost him, she kept going through the forest. Instead of going straight toward Denver though, she opted to try a slightly more roundabout route by going north and curving around. She figured it would confuse Diarmuid further, so she started to head northwest and broke through some thick bushes.

That was when she saw _it_.

Her jaw dropped out of reflex, and her entire body seized up. She was too shocked to speak. Even if she could, there were no words in any language to describe the sight before her innocent eyes. The wind picked up around her, and the rain pounded on her statue-like body.

There was a large gathering of people in this area she escaped to, but there was absolutely no bustle of activity. It was only natural, since everyone… was lying perfectly still along the grass and mud. They just laid there like discarded dolls, as if they were props for some cheap horror movie. But this was no sensational thriller – this was much too real.

Connla’s stomach threatened to expel any bile that was boiling inside her, but she was too stunned to react accordingly. Men, women, boys, girls, of all ages and backgrounds, an entire town’s worth of settlers with hopes and dreams of starting their families anew in this land of opportunity… To call them ‘dead’ was a great kindness for the ghastly sight that they had been reduced to.

The Celtic warriors had not been satisfied with just ending their lives. To make absolutely sure that they perished while sending a terrible message to those who opposed them, the barbaric soldiers went so far as to dismember these unarmed people as much as possible. Men were castrated, women had been brutally raped regardless if they were dead or alive, and children had various weapons skewed through their small bodies. Not even infants were spared from the massacre. Worst of all, the civilians were not even allowed to have an honorable death, shown by _how horribly torn apart their faces were!_

“Ah…” was all Connla could utter at this evil scene.

She collapsed onto her knees in front of a boy around her age, but there was no way she could tell what his appearance was when he was alive. Just as with everyone else, his face had been hacked and slashed so badly that parts of his skull could be seen, and his eyelids had been ripped off so that his eyeballs drooped out of the sockets. The Celts had utilized their weapons of war as tools for such naked brutality.

“Unnngh…”

Connla heard someone’s groan nearby. A woman who had lost one of her arms and had been sexually assaulted stirred to life in this graveyard of blood and carnage. The young Servant immediately ran to her side and took a good look at her face as well. Although it was badly damaged like the others, at least her scalp and parts of her face remained relatively intact. She was probably the best-looking of the bunch, and that was saying a _lot_.

“A-Are you all right?” Connla whimpered.

“Uuuuh… It… hurts…”

Though she wanted to help this woman as much as she could, she actually had no idea how. She knew some Runes, but none of them dealt with healing and resurrection. She had only been trained to use spells that were offensive in nature, which were totally useless here.

“Please, stay still,” she begged. “I’ll try to find someone from the Western forces.”

“Angh… I… can’t…”

After a labored gasp, the victim no longer moved.

“Ma’am!? Ma’am! Please stay with me!”

Connla pressed her hands against the dead woman’s chest, but she was much too late. She then stared at her hands. Copious amounts of blood painted her palms red. Bit by bit, her body started to tremble against her volition, starting with her fingers, then her hands, arms, torso, head and legs. Her mind was going through a roller coaster of emotions as she thought about what Medb told her earlier:

_“This is all to create the perfect country for the three of us. We’ll live as a royal family, command all those below us, and be etched into history as the world’s greatest and most powerful family. Cu and I will take care of everything. You don’t need to do anything except be the beloved princess of the Celts. You’re the daughter of the most wonderful king in the world, so you have every right to live in the lap of luxury.”_

“This is… being done… for me…”

Her fingers shook so out of her control that she thought they would fall off her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to block out the macabre sight from her memory.

**_“YAA~AAA~AAAHH!”_ **

Connla let out a bloodcurdling scream as she pressed her bloodied hands against her cheeks, leaving long red streaks across her face. She heard footsteps rushing behind her, followed by Diarmuid’s voice shouting, “Princess!”

The spearman hurried next to her and held her shoulders while exclaiming, “What happened!?”

“Ah… Ah… No… I don’t…” Connla whimpered uncontrollably, and her shaking only got worse. Tears streamed down her cheeks and mixed with the blood.

He glanced down at the brutally mutilated corpses before them and realized what was going on. He scowled and muttered, “Damn it… You shouldn’t have left the White House. Otherwise you would never have seen this.”

“Father… is doing… this… for me…”

“Princess,” Diarmuid tried to console her. “That’s enough. Forget you ever saw this. I will escort you b-“

Just as he said this, the wind suddenly started to pick up, changing from a swift breeze into a terrible storm in a matter of seconds. Connla was the epicenter of this surprise tornado, and Diarmuid gasped as he was forced back by the sheer power surrounding her. He yelped and brandished Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg out of reflex.

“What’s going on!?” he shouted.

The bodies were scooped into the intensifying gale and flung out of sight. Grass and deep-rooted plants were pulled clean out. The sky turned greyer than before, as if nature itself was responding to the child’s despair. The rain fell so fast that it threatened to shear off Diarmuid’s skin and give him the same visage as those dead people. Connla remained kneeling there, her entire head and torso hunched forward pitifully. To the knight’s horror, her form started to glow white, then blinked as if she had become a translucent ghost fading in and out of existence.

“Princess! Please calm yourself! None of this is your fault!” Diarmuid tried to shout at her, but the wind was so powerful that his voice couldn’t carry itself over the cacophony. The storm’s whistling and howling overcame all else, and the gusts were able to uproot old trees from the ground. Any trees fortunate enough to survive had their leaves and weaker branches torn off instead. Then, Connla lost all control of herself and threw her head back to unleash an immense scream that symbolized all of her fear, sorrow, and guilt.

**_“WAAAAA~AAAAAA~AAAAHHHH~HHH!”_ **

After unleashing that primal cry, she lost consciousness and was swept up into the storm, appearing only as a glowing white dot to Diarmuid’s eyes. He held on to a tree root as hard as he could while watching the little girl disappear from his vision.

**_“PRINCEEE~EEE~EEESS!”_ **

* * *

Far in the western territory of what would be the state of Illinois 35 years from now, a slender woman stood upon the highest rock face she could find and observed the spectacle that was unfolding. Deep in Ohio, a record-breaking hurricane was spawning and increasing in raw power and intensity with each minute. Even from such a distance, she could feel the tornado’s aftermath blowing around her as strong breezes that swayed her long dark mauve hair. The loose cloth attached to her equally purple bodysuit fluttered about as well. She didn’t have much of an expression as she stared at the unnatural storm.

 _So this is what I had foretold,_ she thought somberly. _When my final pupil’s hands are covered in blood, she will become the medium for countless spirits to unleash their rage upon this world. That is the true nature of her Noble Phantasm – the less control she has of herself, the more she opens herself to allow the undead to wreck havoc with her powers._

She closed her eyes.

_You idiot… You should have waited for me to come and get you out of there… No, I shouldn’t solely blame her for this. I am just as responsible for not coming to rescue her from his grasp in time._

The woman spun a pair of red lances in her hands, then leapt from the rock and hurried along the terrain.

_In any case, I have to find her and get her as far away from Cuchulainn as possible. She must not get involved with this Singularity any more than she already has._


	3. Archer of White Stone

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 3: Archer of White Stone**

“Gwah!”

A Western soldier had his gut pierced clean through by Cuchulainn’s spear. The fallen man tried to crawl away, but the cruel Servant stepped on him and crunched his pointed heel right into his spine. A sickening crunch permeated the air, signaling the unfortunate soldier’s death.

“Whoops. He’s already dead. Guess I got carried away,” Cuchulainn muttered boredly. “I could stick his head on a pike as a message to the enemy, but there’s plenty more where he came from. Hey, punk. Let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?”

He looked around for Rama, but the Indian hero was nowhere to be found.

“What a bore. Oh well. Gae Bolg’s injuries are incurable. He’ll die eventually.”

“He he he,” he heard Medb giggling nearby. “You’re amazing, Cu. Even when we were alive, I could sense a trace of bestial carnage hidden beneath your humanity. Now that you’ve discarded that impurity, you’ve become the king of wild beasts who will crush any and all that oppose you. Everything you do is in the name of raw, unforgivable violence. With that inhumanity, you will slaughter everyone who does not suit the nation of peace you seek to give Connie as the ultimate present. The more you kill, the more you show your love as a father for that poor, tortured child.”

More blood flew everywhere as Cuchulainn murdered several more enemy soldiers. He looked back at the queen and muttered, “Were you saying something?”

“I was, but don’t mind me.”

“You talk too much. Well whatever. I’ve cleaned up the trash, so I’m gonna get some sleep. Wake me up when-“

That was when Cuchulainn’s nerves suddenly prickled, and he shuddered uncontrollably. It was a dreadful sensation he never felt before. Sweat rolled down his face, his eyes were wide with anxiety, and he clenched his shark-like teeth to hold back whatever fear had gripped his soul.

“Cu?” Medb wondered. His immediate change in behavior also got her on edge.

 _What the hell is this? I shouldn’t be feeling like this. I’m the Mad King of the Celts, the Bloodthirsty Hound of Ulster, and the ruin of this infantile nation. I shouldn’t be terrified of anything – I_ am _terror itself! Why is this happening? Why am I paralyzed like this?_

“Cu!” the queen urged, snapping him back to his senses. “What happened to you, my king? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“Ugh…” he breathed heavily. His heart pounded rapidly, which he hadn’t felt since the brutal days he trained under Scathach’s strict tutelage. “I-I’m fine…”

“Are you sure?”

He scowled harshly at her, “Do you dare to make me repeat myself?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I always hear you loud and clear the first time. I just cannot help but worry about you. Whatever has gotten you in a twist?”

“I don’t know… It feels like… something has gone horribly wrong…”

“That can’t be. Our conquest is going smoothly. You destroyed the heart of that hero and sent the Resistance forces into a state of disarray. Our chances couldn’t be more perfect than this.”

Cuchulainn grumbled. He didn’t care about the war in this moment. Something intangible had caught him off guard, and he needed to figure out what the hell it was before it could become a weakness that the enemy exploited. As he was busy gathering his thoughts, one of the Celtic soldiers ran up to the royal pair and exclaimed, “We’ve got trouble!”

“What is it?” Medb snapped angrily.

“Look over there, Your Highness!”

The man pointed over to the general direction of Ohio. To the queen’s shock, the sky had turned completely grey, and a monstrous hurricane engulfed the lands in violent winds. Although they couldn’t see it from this vantage point, thousands of Celtic warriors and American infantry mechs were mercilessly swept up and torn apart before being tossed haphazardly all across the countryside. Buildings, trees and giant boulders also didn’t stand a chance against this jaw-dropping spectacle of nature’s fury.

Medb was utterly astounded as she screamed, “What the hell is this!?”

“We need to withdraw, or else we might be destroyed!” the soldier urged.

“Grrr… **_Shut up!_** ” she raged and viciously whipped the man with her riding crop until he was dead. “No tornado of any magnitude should ever exist here! Even if it does, it means nothing when I have the Holy Grail! So what if our forces are decimated!? I can just make more to replace them!”

Cuchulainn ignored her ranting and stared aghast at the unnatural phenomenon. As he thought about it, realized that the strange pangs of trepidation hit him the moment the tornado began to spawn. Eventually, he came to discern that the winds were not the result of natural weather patterns, but of someone’s magic that was running rampant. Perhaps it was more appropriate to assume that this was a Noble Phantasm that had suddenly spiraled out of the Servant’s control and was wrecking havoc everywhere.

_Someone who can control the winds… with their Noble Phantasm…?_

Upon that thought, a new level of terror seized his heart.

**_“CONNLA!”_ **

The man let out a shrill scream and immediately ran toward the lethal storm with all his might. Medb yelped, but could only watch as the panicked king vanished from her sight. She stared at the gargantuan tornado with a blank expression.

_Is this really your doing, Connie?_

* * *

“My word! What kind of devilry is this!?”

In Denver, a tall, muscular man stood upon the balcony of his chalky-white fortress and gazed eastward at the deadly hurricane. He really couldn’t be called a ‘man’ in the strictest sense, as while the rest of his body was definitely human, his face was that of a white lion’s. He wore blue spandex, black boots, and strange pauldrons on his shoulders that resembled light bulbs, making him appear more like a bizarre comic book super hero than the leader of a budding country.

“It only happened just now,” a shorter young woman reported with a hesitant frown. She had short purple hair, purple eyes, and wore a simple purple leotard, white sleeves, and purple thigh-length pantyhose with black boots. She held a book in her hand and used its powers to analyze the magical energy coming from the tornado. She continued, “It’s definitely someone’s doing, but I’m not sure of who is capable of such devastation.”

“It must be that wicked queen!” the lion-man yelled, unleashing an animalistic roar. “She must have grown fearful of my mass-produced forces and is resorting to calling upon Mother Nature’s wrath itself to annihilate everyone equally!”

“No,” a calmer fellow’s voice interrupted his spiel. “This is not the work of the Holy Grail.”

The pair turned around to face their third companion. He was a handsome man with messy white hair and an ivory complexion. He wore a tight-fitting black bodysuit that covered all except his head and upper chest, and his arms and legs were protected beneath layers of golden armor. A red fur mantle draped across his back served to exemplify his divine nature.

“What do you mean?” the tall leader wondered. “How else can such a monstrosity be formed? If this is not the result of that black-hearted fool Medb’s demonic wishes, then what is?”

The pale fellow’s lips thinned into a line as he observed the storm with his keen green eyes. “I do not know the origin, but there’s no mistaking it – a Servant’s Noble Phantasm is causing this.”

“A Servant?” the woman wondered.

“Worry not. Once their power is exhausted, the hurricane will die down. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Servant is already dead after using up enough energy to rival the gods.”

“Hoh…” the lion-man sighed. “So there is no fear of this occurring again?”

“Correct. Although the losses are tremendous, such a calamity will not make a second appearance.”

“If that is what you claim, then so be it. Your insight during such perilous times is both remarkable and reassuring. I am glad to have you as an ally.”

“There’s no need to say such things. I am only cooperating for personal reasons.”

“I know that, but I still felt like saying it.”

The woman likewise felt assured from the divine fellow’s guidance, but became worried as she wondered, “Even so, what sort of trauma would a Servant have to go through to lose control of their powers like this?”

“This is a war in the truest and bloodiest sense,” the white-haired man said. “Perhaps seeing the death and destruction was too much for them to bear, so they wanted to wipe it clean.”

“Poor thing… To throw away your life for such a reason…”

“Come now, there’s no need for such pity,” the leader put his hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps we should see this unknown Servant’s sacrifice as a chance for us to recuperate and plan an offensive strategy. Those filthy Celts are probably hurting as well since the storm engulfed their forces too.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

* * *

_Two days later…_

Near the Western forces’ capital of Denver, Colorado (which wouldn’t be admitted as a state for another 103 years), a forested area just east of the fortress was where the small town of Fletcher was established. It would later be renamed Aurora in the early 1900s, but for now, Fletcher was a humble real estate outpost that lived in both Denver’s sanctity and shadow.

A dark-skinned man prowled through the forest past Fletcher toward Denver. He was a Native American born in these lands as the great Apache warrior Goyahkla, but was more infamously known as Geronimo after earning a reputation for his raids against the Mexicans. This was also the same man who rescued Rama from Cuchulainn just a few days ago. He had long black hair done in multiple small braids so they resembled ropes, and he wore a Western-styled coat and traditional Native American leggings. His dark appearance was greatly contrasted by his sky blue eyes, making one think that he was a hawk given personification.

He lithely tread through the woods that he was very accustomed to, clearly on a mission that took him toward Denver. However, his sharp eyes caught sight of something he had never seen before, so he took a moment to investigate. Some kind of long red cloth was draped next to an oak tree near the brook. As he got a closer look, he gasped when he realized the cloth was part of a dress that an unconscious child was garbed in.

“What in the world?” Geronimo murmured and examined her for any wounds. She didn’t look too hurt, but was nonresponsive to his calls.

She didn’t look to be any older than six or seven, and she kept her long lavender hair down while sweeping her thick bangs back with a red hair band. Along with her red dress, she wore a black blouse beneath it, and thigh-high black boots. Her deep pockets contained hundreds of stones, and a belt around her waist held a sturdy slingshot next to her. Her Caucasian complexion immediately hinted that she was not a fellow Apache or tribal member like he was, but she didn’t appear to be from the American or Mexican forces that he often retaliated against.

_This garb looks more European than Western - it’s like a traditional dancer’s dress for girls. Is it English? Dutch? German? Or perhaps…_

Geronimo swallowed, not wanting to imagine the possibility of it being Celtic. At that moment, the girl began to stir awake, and she opened her bleary brown eyes to look up at him.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m… um… Where is this…?” the little girl mumbled.

“We’re in the outskirts of Denver.”

“Den… ver…?” The name didn’t seem familiar to her. She tried to get up, but she suddenly felt lightheaded and dozens of unnatural light particles danced in her vision. She groaned, almost feeling sick to her stomach.

“Take it easy,” Geronimo held her upright. He remained by her side until she was well enough to sit on her own. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Were you caught in a battle and ran away? Or were you caught in that deadly tornado a few days ago and tossed here?”

“I’m not sure. My mind feels so blank…”

“Can you at least tell me your name?”

The girl paused, trying to think of anything that could clue her in to her identity. Her skin blanched a couple shades of white as she realized, “I have no idea.”

“So you have amnesia,” Geronimo murmured. “That’s not good. I need to take you to a safe place right away, yet I must carry out my mission posthaste.”

“Were you in a hurry? I’m sorry for delaying you.”

“It’s okay. I’m not in enough of a rush that I would ignore a young lady lying in the woods. That said, I am in the middle of urgent business, yet I cannot bring myself to leave you here like this.”

“Then… would it be okay if I went with you?”

“You, coming with me? I wonder about that…” Geronimo frowned hard.

“I don’t really know who I am, but for some reason, I feel like I’m familiar with the concept of combat. I’m sure I won’t slow you down.”

“Hm. You certainly look like a capable warrior. Even if you are not in good health, you’re still clearly a Servant. Judging by that slingshot and the number of rocks in your possession, you’re an Archer-class Heroic Spirit, yes?”

“An Archer…?” the girl murmured, holding the weapon in her hand for a moment. “I don’t think I am… Yet, it feels natural for me to use this…”

“I don’t really understand either, but for the time being, you should fight as an Archer. Furthermore, it would be best to give you a temporary name until you can remember who you are. How does Ituha sound?”

“Ituha?”

“In my tongue, it can either mean ‘white stone’ or ‘sturdy oak’. I figured it was suitable since you use stones as your weapon, and I found you lying next to an oak tree.”

“I see.”

“Now then, you’d best prepare yourself. If you wish to accompany me, you must be ready for battle,” Geronimo warned her.

“Battle?”

“Yes. I will explain along the way.”

The Native American warrior guided his new companion through the forest while talking. He told her, “We’re in the middle of an East-West war, with the United Western States fighting against the Celtic army that has dominated the eastern states. Along with the Presi-King and the Mad King’s forces, resistance groups have been forming to protect civilians, but we cannot last like this.”

“If it’s a war, doesn’t that mean one side will eventually run out of soldiers?” Ituha asked.

“Normally that’s the case, but not this time. Queen Medb, one of the Celts’ rulers, is in possession of the Holy Grail and is using it to supply herself with an endless army of battle-driven creatures. It’s not a matter of if the west will fall, but when. Servants have been appearing who are helping us with the resistance, one of whom is critically injured. He is a rather powerful warrior from Hindu mythology, so to lose him would potentially be fatal.

“That is why I am on this mission. I have heard of a woman who is trained as a nurse. I believe she will be able to help heal him, but right now she has been imprisoned for insubordination. According to my intel, she went against the Presi-King because she wanted to actually fight the root cause of this war, but he wouldn’t allow it. I’m going to retrieve her from her prison and bring her to the Servant who needs treatment.”

Ituha nodded in acknowledgement, but then asked, “Why are there resistance groups separate from the two armies?”

Geronimo grumbled. “Naturally, we refuse to side with those bloodthirsty Celts who live only to destroy, going so far as to turn on each other to sate their violent appetite. Unfortunately, the Presi-King has likewise become closed-minded to any sort of rational thinking. He believes that conscripting people and manufacturing countless mechanized infantry is the key to his victory. How naïve; he does not realize that this land’s resources will run dry, leaving him powerless to the endless flow of Medb’s killer beasts.”

“What a desperate situation.”

“It certainly is. That’s why it’s imperative that I rescue this nurse and have her treat the injured Servant. With his aid, we may have a much better chance of surviving.”

“I understand the gist of it now. I don’t know how much I can offer, but I’ll do what I can to help.”

“Thank you for your kindly assistance, young one,” the Apache man smiled. “Don’t strain yourself too much though. Not only do you have amnesia, but you also have some serious wounds. Perhaps after we finish our mission, I’ll convince the nurse to take a look at you.”

“But I wouldn’t want to slow her down from treating this other Servant…”

“Well let’s just play it by ear, all right? For now, we’re almost at the Presi-King’s fortress. We should be careful not to be spotted by his infantry.”

Geronimo and Ituha reached the edge of the forest and kneeled behind some foliage to conceal their presence. Several robots could be seen lumbering around on patrol. He squinted and whispered, “There’s quite a lot of them.”

“How are we going to get in?” Ituha asked. “It’s impossible to sneak past them like this.”

“Fortunately, one of my allies allowed me to borrow his Noble Phantasm for this occasion.”

He took out a large pine green mantle from his bag and unfurled it while explaining, “He called it the No Face May King, a cloak that he uses to completely conceal his presence. So long as we keep ourselves beneath it, we should be able to slip in undetected. Make sure you don’t make any unnecessary sounds or movements though, got it?”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Geronimo wrapped the cloak around himself and Ituha, and their forms blended in perfectly with the rich green surroundings. He kept his hand on her shoulder, and they slowly walked in unison toward the grand white fortress. She was scared of breathing and her heart beat out of sheer anxiety, yet she couldn’t deny the sense of excitement welling up within her. She felt like she was some kind of spy in a sensational thriller novel. Just as he claimed, they were walking past the robots in broad daylight without being detected whatsoever.

It took an uncomfortably long time for the pair to make the trek, but their patience was rewarded as they reached the castle’s ivory walls. Ituha wanted to ask if there was a way for them to get inside, but she was nervous about talking while in such a delicate situation. She decided to keep her mouth shut and trust that Geronimo knew what he was doing. After he spent some time running his hand along the pristine wall, his fingers brushed against a raised piece of stone and he pushed it like a button. They heard a clicking sound, then he pushed in a section of the wall like a heavy door, and they hurried inside before he shut it so as not to arouse suspicion from the mech guards.

“Phew…” Ituha sighed, exhaling all of the pent up stress in one long breath. She hunched forward and held on to her knees while gasping, “That was so scary!”

“You did well,” Geronimo smiled. “But I’m afraid that was the easy part. From here, the mission will get much harder. Stay alert.”

“Yes, sir.”

The duo proceeded through the dark stone halls, lit only by an array of brightly glowing torches. Although Geronimo had a small blueprint of the fortress’ dungeons to help them stay on track, the place was so massive that it would be easy to get lost if they weren’t paying attention. They couldn’t leave any markers or signs anywhere because it would rouse suspicion with the mech guards, so they had to commit their path to memory. They ducked their heads around numerous corners and dashed along when they saw that the area was clear.

“We’re almost to the cells,” Geronimo whispered. “The only trouble is I have no idea which one this woman is supposedly locked up in.”

“I guess we have to investigate them one at a time,” Ituha said. “How many cells are there?”

“Around a hundred or so.”

“Hah…” the girl sighed. “Even if we split it up, that’s still 50 per person.”

“Furthermore, time is of the essence if I want her to save that Servant’s life.”

As they were busy mulling their options, that was when they heard the sound of gunfire, followed by a distinct metallic bashing. After a moment, the noises happened again in rapid succession.

“Hm!?” the Native American murmured in surprise. “This way!”

The pair ran down the corridor and hurried down some steps toward the source of the sounds. As they reached a particular barred room, they saw a young woman with long salmon-color hair aiming her pistol at the steel bars. She wore a traditional red military jacket, white gloves, a black skirt, white legwear and boots. Her sharp red eyes gave her the aura of a combat-hardened nurse who was used to witnessing grievous injuries caused by war and disease. She fired her gun once again and the bullet ricocheted off the metal, narrowly missing Geronimo’s shoulder.

“Whoa!” he yelped.

“Oh? Who are you?” the lady wondered. He gestured for her to be quiet, then used a spare dungeon key that he had been given to open the steel door and let her out.

“That was much too reckless, Ms. Nightingale…” he grumbled. “But at least the sound of gunfire allowed us to find you much quicker.”

The ruby-eyed woman narrowed her eyes. “You know of me?”

“Yes. I… Or rather, _we_ have come to get you out of here.”

She blinked, then glanced at the small figure behind him. She was surprised to see Ituha standing there with a pensive expression. The nurse exclaimed to Geronimo, “I’m not exactly sure who you are or what’s going on here, but you have some nerve to bring a child along with you!”

“But we came to rescue you,” Ituha said. “I agreed to help Mr. Geronimo with this mission of getting you out.”

“Even so-!”

“I’m afraid we have no time for this, Ms. Nightingale,” the shaman stopped them. “It is only thanks to this Noble Phantasm I borrowed that allowed the two of us to slip past Karna’s detection until now.”

He showed her the strange mantle, then continued, “I will be more than happy to explain everything at a later time. For now though, we must focus on leaving. Not only do we have to outwit Karna, but we must deal with the mechanized infantry that Edison has stationed as sentries. I wish we could use Robin’s Noble Phantasm to sneak by unnoticed, but it’s not meant for more than one adult to use.”

“So that must be why you brought the child Servant,” Nightingale surmised. “You could carry her beneath that cloth with you.”

“Well, that’s not really why she’s here… But you’re right, it worked out that way.”

While the pair were busy conversing, Ituha peered around the corner of the hallway as a lookout. She immediately backed away as she saw some of the strange robots marching through the dark halls on patrol. She reported, “The guards just passed by. If we move now, we can sneak around them for a good while before being detected.”

“Then let’s move,” Geronimo said. “We just need to pick off the most troublesome watchmen as quietly as possible.”

“Yeah… W-What the-!?”

The girl yelped as Nightingale disregarded their strategy and rushed past them to confront the mechanized infantry head-on. Geronimo growled, “That fool! Is she trying to get herself killed!?”

“We need to go after her!”

The robots turned around when they heard Nightingale’s running footsteps and prepared to fire their machine guns at her. She was much too quick for them to fire upon as she leapt above them and balled her hand into a tight fist, punching her way through the metal and pulling out vital parts that the mechs needed to function. Geronimo unpocketed several long daggers and threw them with expert precision at some more robots that had heard the cacophony and were arriving to provide support.

“Curses!” the shaman yelled. “How many of these abominations does Edison have!? They just keep coming!”

“Ignore the small fry and take out the ones who are in the way!” Nightingale shouted.

“I wish I could, but they’re _all_ in the way!”

Ituha looked around frantically to see if there was an alternate route they could take. They weren’t blocked in, but if they took a wrong turn anywhere, they would wind up being lost on top of fighting through an endless ambush. She glanced up at the ceiling and noticed a weak spot.

 _Maybe this will do the trick,_ she thought and readied her slingshot with a large pebble. Then she felt a strange burning sensation run through her hands and fingers, and several red magic circles with Celtic glyphs materialized around the weapon, then converged on the stone to energize it with searing fire. She didn’t know why or how she was doing it, but she decided to worry about that later and fired her shot. The rock detonated with a powerful boom and collapsed the ceiling upon the mechanized infantry, crushing some while barring others from reaching their targets.

Geronimo exclaimed, “Good work! Let’s run!”

The trio backtracked the same way that he and Ituha came in, although they had to contend with the occasional robot that spotted them. The young Archer slung another fiery stone at a cannon shot from an incoming droid, intercepting it in midair so Nightingale could charge in and tear it apart without hindrance. Geronimo took the lead and slid around the corner, shouting to his partners, “It’s just up ahead here!”

Ituha’s heart suddenly pounded as she felt a powerful presence lurking on the other side of the dungeon entrance. She swallowed hard and asked, “Is that a Servant?”

“I’d wager it’s Karna,” Nightingale said, readying her pistol.

“Karna?”

“The Son of the Sun God, and a great hero of the _Mahabharata_. No doubt, he’s one of the world’s most powerful Heroic Spirits.”

Geronimo snarled, “Damn it. Outwitting him was too much to ask for. Yet it is impossible for us to retreat.”

“Then there’s only one choice - _push through!”_

The avid Berserker led the charge towards the exit, with the others following closely behind. The trio emerged back into the world as the sun began to set around them. Greeting them at the foot of the hill was a handsome, pale-skinned young man with white hair who wielded a fearsome obsidian lance

Ituha’s chest stiffened up, and she gasped while thinking, _He’s strong! He hasn’t done anything, and yet I can sense how powerful he is!_

The man regarded Geronimo by saying, “So it is you.”

“I didn’t want to have to fight you like this,” the Native American replied forlornly.

“Likewise, I too did not wish to battle the man who fought against an entire nation for his people’s rights. That also goes for the Angel of Crimea, the woman who fights bravely against injury and illness, and…”

Karna gazed at Ituha for a moment. His expression grew curious as he murmured, “Strange. Even though you are a Servant, I do not recognize you from any history or folklore. Contending with famous Servants is one thing, but facing one who is completely shrouded in mystery is a conundrum in its own right. Do you have some kind of concealment spell that masks your identity, young one?”

“Um…” she stuttered, unsure of what to say to someone with such an incredible presence.

“Leave her out of this!” Nightingale demanded. “She is only a child!”

“That I cannot do,” Karna refused with a chilly retort. “Since my allies are being attacked by invaders, I have no choice but to raise my spear in defense. Worry not – I will ensure that Edison’s mech soldiers don’t interfere. This battle will only be three on one; myself versus you all. Show me your conviction through your desperate struggle to survive against the odds.”

“Tch… This is bad,” Geronimo muttered to his comrades. “Even if we have the numbers, his power will overwhelm us if we are not careful.”

Nightingale glowered, “What’s the problem? Karna is obviously not taking us seriously, and he’s too proud of a man to turn back on his word, so we can be assured that there will be no backup coming for him. Furthermore, he doesn’t know anything about Ituha’s fighting style.”

“Well neither do we!”

“Then it’s all the more imperative that the two of us charge at Karna while she snipes him down. She is an Archer, isn’t she? He won’t know what to expect.”

Geronimo grumbled, then faced the girl and asked, “Can you do it? Can you help us out in this battle? If you can’t, then stay out of sight until you find an opportunity to run, then do so.”

She shook her head and took out her slingshot. “I won’t do that. I refuse to abandon you both like this. Besides, I’d have no idea where to go.”

“Hm… True that.”

“Then there’s nothing to think about!” Nightingale declared and pointed her gun at Karna. “No point in wasting our energy! All we have to do is send him flying away, then we flee immediately!”

“Got it!” the others chimed simultaneously.


	4. Wills of Fire and Steel

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 4: Wills of Fire and Steel**

In southern Ohio, right near the border to Kentucky, Cuchulainn was on the prowl. Ever since the freak tornado that occurred two days ago, he had devoted all of his energy to searching the entirety of the state for any sign of Connla. He suspected that she was responsible for the storm, but the amount of mana needed to generate such a massive typhoon would definitely drain her energy, if not outright kill her. He didn’t want to imagine that she was dead. He was doing all of this for her, so for her to not be around would ruin the whole point of this war.

The day after the storm ceased, Cuchulainn had reached the immediate vicinity and was quite disturbed by what he found. All plant life had been ripped from the ground, leaving behind barren rocks, mud, and valiant trees that had just barely survived the torrent. No buildings or manmade structures such as carriages or wagons remained. Not a soul was to be found either, regardless if they were ally or enemy. Even the birds had abandoned the area, so everything was dead silent.

_What the hell…?_

He sauntered over to a spot where he believed was the epicenter of the tornado. He kneeled there, planted his palm on the ground, and concentrated on conjuring his Runes to inspect for any magical residue in the air. He found plenty right here, and the Spirit Origin from which it originated definitely belonged to Connla.

_Shit. Why did you do this?_

Cuchulainn clenched his sharp teeth. As far as he knew, she had no reason to lash out like this. He couldn’t deny her distant behavior before she ran away, but he never imagined she would be capable of a similar kind of destruction that he was spreading across the country. The thought of Connla going berserk and slaughtering everyone like what he was doing chilled him to the bones – she was too meek and sensitive to ever consider behaving like that, and he preferred for her to remain that way.

Unfortunate as it was for him, he wouldn’t find anything else here. He had to abandon the area and look elsewhere for clues about his missing daughter’s whereabouts. While he was canvassing the state, he came across Fionn who was also looking for the girl and his friend.

“Sir, not only has Miss Connla vanished, but now I cannot find Diarmuid either,” Fionn reported. “Although I don’t have any proof, I have a strong suspicion that they were thrown about by the storm. If that’s true, who knows where they may have landed or if they’re still alive.”

“Is that all?” Cuchulainn growled. “What a mess this has become. Well, I don’t care if Diarmuid has been vaporized or whatever. All I want is to confirm whether Connla is dead or alive. Even if you have to bring me her corpse, at least it’ll be better than nothing.”

“What about the conquest? Is Lady Medb going to be left in charge while we search?”

“Naturally. She lost a good number of soldiers thanks to that tornado, so she needs some time to generate more minions with the Grail. Fortunately, it seems Edison’s hurting quite a bit from the losses as well. If you run into any rogue Servants along the way, kill them on the spot. I don’t want to have to deal with more Heroic Spirits like that loudmouthed punk.”

“I haven’t forgotten that. Then, by your leave.”

With that, Fionn left Cuchulainn alone and headed westward. The king concentrated his efforts southward, since he was sure there wouldn’t be anything if he went north or east. He didn’t encounter anything or anyone along the way, and he was starting to get impatient with the lack of clues. Having moved away from northern Ohio, all of the plant and wild life returned to normal.

That was when he felt it. There was a concealed presence meticulously watching his every move, stalking him down like a wolf would hunt a deer. He snarled, not appreciating that he, the ultimate hunter, was now being treated as the hunted.

 ** _“Who’s there!?”_** he shouted and swung Gae Bolg at the tree he believed the presence was lurking behind. Whoever the figure was, they moved out of range so fast that he swore they were teleporting or something. All that remained was the thick tree trunk as it collapsed upon the grass with a creaking thud that resonated all across the land.

 _That wasn’t an animal or a monster,_ Cuchulainn thought. _Their aura was much stronger… A Servant?_

This was the last thing he needed right now. He resigned himself to the idea that he was someone’s prey and opted to eliminate this problem as soon as possible. He would soon show them that it was a huge mistake to pursue the Mad King of the Celts. He swung his lance, then dashed in the general direction he believed the mystery Servant had escaped.

* * *

With the cold ferocity he was known for, Karna initiated the battle with the three Servants by leaping high and slamming his massive black spear upon the ground they stood on. They were forced to jump aside in different directions, but Nightingale buckled down and returned to brawl with him using only her fists, legs and pistol. She wasn’t known for her prowess in martial arts when she was alive, but since she materialized as a Berserker in this world, she was gifted with inhuman stamina and reflexes to help her combat those who would stand in her way of treating victims. The battle-hardened Karna could read her frenzied moves and parried her with elegant finesse before knocking her back with a powerful kick to her abdomen.

As Nightingale skidded across the grass, Geronimo threw a volley of long daggers at the divine Servant’s back. Karna whirled around and swung his spear to deflect the blades, but he was wide open for Nightingale to leap above him and deliver a mighty drop kick upon the back of his neck.

“Mmph!” he grunted.

“I will eliminate all disease and suffering from this world!” she declared, delivering several punches that he had to concentrate on avoiding. “Any and all pathogens that stand in my way shall be sterilized with no prejudice! Prepare yourself for a thorough disinfection routine!”

“I think not,” he coolly retorted and grabbed her fist, then used her own momentum to flip her across the ground violently. Before he could attempt to stab through her head, a volley of flaming stones viciously pelted him at breakneck speeds. He hopped back and noticed Ituha firing her slingshot. He couldn’t help but be impressed by how rapidly she was reaching into her dress pockets, grabbing a handful of stones, reloading her weapon, firing away, and repeating this process without pause and with remarkable accuracy.

“A young one like you is not suitable for the field of battle,” Karna told her. “Unfortunately, since you have struck me, I have no choice but to retaliate in turn.”

He rushed toward her and swung his lance about. Ituha ran away from him while ducking and weaving around his strikes in a panic.

 ** _“YAH!”_** Geronimo screamed and intercepted Karna with his dagger, allowing Ituha to stumble out of range to safety. Nightingale joined him in keeping Karna away from the child Servant, but his strength overwhelmed their combined might and he swept them back with a powerful swing. Ituha watched them struggle and started to grow fearful for their lives. She took deep gasps of air to compose herself, but she understood that, even when the unlikely heroes were working together in unison, they were still severely outmatched by this one legendary Servant.

_Ms. Nightingale said that all we have to do is send him flying away. I wish my magic was strong enough to do it, but…_

Suddenly, her hands were surrounded by a pair of identical red magic circles that bore the symbol of an intricate icovellavna in the center and Celtic Runes on the borders. She felt a surge of power rush through her chest, arms, and hands that emerged as bright flames burning upon her palms. The fire didn’t harm her skin, but she was totally stupefied by how she accomplished this.

Karna looked over at her and murmured, “Hoh? Those markings…”

“I thought so! She’s a Celt!” Geronimo exclaimed.

The searing energy grew stronger with each second, and Ituha felt like she couldn’t contain it any longer. Words formed in her mind, and she called out a peculiar phrase at the top of her lungs:

 **“Coinneal Léimneach!”** †

The flame in her hands intensified and launched a stream of raw fire straight for Karna. He winced and brought his lance forth to shield himself from the flaming onslaught. He was engulfed in the firestorm, but since he was the Son of the Sun and could call forth the power of flames himself, he wouldn’t suffer any serious damage from this surprise attack. He couldn’t prevent himself from being pushed high into the air however, and he flipped backwards several times to regain his momentum.

Geronimo gasped and asked Ituha, “Was that your Noble Phantasm!?”

“I don’t know!” she panicked. “I was getting scared, and then my hands started burning!”

“Never mind that!” Nightingale shouted. “This is our chance! Run, while he’s out of commission!”

“Let’s go!” the Native American took the confused child’s hand and made her run alongside him back into the forest.

Karna fell upon the fortress and landed on the top of one of the watch towers. As he watched the trio of unlikely allies flee for their lives from his wrath, Karna murmured to himself, “This is all I can do, Edison. The hands of time have begun moving forward… No, it seems they started advancing well before any of us realized it. Ever since the day of that storm, things have begun to change.”

He couldn’t help but think about Ituha, and how he tried to analyze her identity and abilities during the battle. Although she wasn’t particularly a threat to him, he sensed something amiss about her magic.

_I felt her power before… Yes, I remember now. Somewhere in the eye of that terrible hurricane was a Servant’s aura. I did not recognize it then just as much as I failed to ascertain the child’s true nature now, yet her spells have the same quality as the tornado that devastated both sides just recently. Perhaps not in intensity, but it is without a doubt identical._

Karna remained silent, pondering what his hypothesis could mean.

_Was she the source of that indiscriminate force of destruction? For what purpose would she do such a thing? Is she really an ally to anyone at all, or is she too an enemy to the world like Cuchulainn is?_

His mouth closed into a thin line.

_Much uncertainty looms in the air. How soon shall it be before absolute chaos plunges this world into oblivion? Are we prepared enough to face it as we are?_

* * *

The three Servants, who just barely escaped with their lives, hurried through the thick forest as far as they could before exhaustion wore them down. They had to stop and take a breather for a short while. It was already approaching midnight by the time they rested, so it was difficult for Nightingale and Ituha to know where they were going. Geronimo was extremely familiar with the area however, so he took the lead and guided his newfound comrades.

“Looks like we’re not being pursued,” he said. “Once we reach town, we should be safe.”

“Good,” Nightingale said, “because I’ve got a lot of questions that need answering.”

“I’m sure you would like to know the Resistance’s current status, but I think it’s prudent that you focus on healing the injured Servant first.”

“I know that. First though, I want to know who this girl is.”

The adults looked at Ituha, who was walking behind them in silence. Nightingale continued, “Is it true that she has amnesia?”

“That’s what I understood,” Geronimo explained. “She doesn’t know her True Name or where she comes from. The only thing I know for certain now is that she’s a Celtic Servant.”

“And you brought such a patient with you on a dangerous mission!?”

“Ms. Nightingale, please don’t say that,” Ituha assured. “I already told you that I went with him willingly.”

“Tch… That was quite careless of you. You should have waited for us in the forest.”

“This coming from someone who tried to shoot her way through locked iron bars?”

“For someone who’s lost her memories, you’re quite the uppity one, aren’t you?”

“Well… I mean…”

“Now, now,” the Apache shaman stopped them. “What’s done is done. We have successfully retrieved you from Edison’s forces. Now we must focus on the next step – curing this ailing Servant so that he may rally the troops for our ultimate counter-strike.”

“Hmm,” Nightingale hummed curiously. “Perhaps attending to this man’s aid is precisely what I need if I am to combat the root cause of the plague that has infested this nation.”

“Edison would never have supported such rash logic. Is that why you were imprisoned?”

“Right. I proposed that we excise the Celtic leaders posthaste, but he would not listen to me. I fear that his mind is likewise poisoned from something beyond his control. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that he is ‘possessed’.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m not sure. He didn’t give me enough time to perform a thorough examination of his head. I can guarantee that he is ill and needs treatment though. A patient with such a mindset has no business running a country. It is unfortunate, but I must triage his care for a later date.”

“How exactly did you plan on treating the root cause of this war, anyway?”

“How else? Charging into the White House and personally purifying the toxic invaders.”

Geronimo and Ituha sighed, unanimously agreeing that Nightingale’s plan was beyond absurd. The young Archer moaned, “I’m starting to think that Mr. Edison threw you in jail for your own safety…”

“Preposterous. That man cares for nothing except his own warped idea of ‘rationality’,” Nightingale protested. “If my services were not needed elsewhere, I would have confronted him immediately.”

“Save that for later,” Geronimo said. “We’re almost there.”

The trio emerged through the clearing and arrived at the edge of a deserted town. Humble wooden buildings such as a saloon, a couple of inns, a post station, a market, and some homes were left behind when the civilians retreated as far west as they could. The only ones who remained here were Resistance soldiers and some Servants who had joined the cause.

One such soldier halted Geronimo’s group and exclaimed, “Welcome back, sir. I trust everything went well?”

“The mission was successful. Not only have I brought Ms. Nightingale with me, but I also have another Servant who wishes to join our cause.”

“Hmm?” the man looked at Ituha, then started shaking fearfully. “Y-You’re joking, right? That’s impossible! We cannot accept her!”

“Why not?” Geronimo glared.

“Those clothes… There’s no mistaking it – that girl is a Celt!”

She murmured, “A Celt…? You mean I’m one of the bad guys…?”

“What are you blathering about, lass? They’re not just ‘bad guys’! They’re a force of complete and utter destruction! It would be foolish of us to let her in when she is clearly a spy for those barbarians!”

“You’re wrong,” Geronimo interrupted him with a calm yet firm tone. “She’s not a Celt. That’s a disguise she’s wearing to fool the enemy.”

“Oh… I-I see,” the soldier uttered hesitantly. “My apologies, young lady.”

Even though the shaman’s timely smooth-talking calmed everyone down, Ituha still looked downhearted. She pressed her hands against her chest and moaned, “I forgot that Mr. Geronimo said the Celts were this nation’s enemies. Maybe it would be better if I didn’t come into town… I don’t want to cause any unnecessary panic…”

“You’re not staying outside,” Nightingale rebuked. “It would be unforgivable for one of my patients to rest under such unsanitary conditions. If anyone tries to cast you out, I will excise them myself and force them to sleep under those harsh conditions themselves!”

“Um…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take full responsibility for you. It’s true that I’ve triaged your treatment to be less important than this other Servant’s, but once I have successfully discharged him, I will see to it that I cure you of your amnesia. I don’t care what memories I have to force out of you when the time comes – you _will_ get them back! This I’m sure of!”

“Mm,” Ituha nodded quietly.

Geronimo led the pair into the deserted town. They entered one of the small hotels and were guided by a soldier to one of the back rooms. Ituha hung back while the adults entered and surrounded the bed where a red-haired man was resting.

“Is he doing all right?” Geronimo asked.

“I can’t say he’s stable, but his stamina is incredible. Servants really are on a whole different level than us ordinary humans,” the soldier said. “At the very least, he’s still alive for the moment.”

“So this is the Servant you have been sheltering,” Nightingale said. “Since you have gone through such hardship to bring me to this man, I shall tend to him with my fullest ability.”

“Please do,” the Apache warrior implored. “Without your help, he would not have stood a chance.”

They removed the blankets covering the wounded man, and they got a good look at his devastating injuries. Ituha had to suppress a disgusted yelp when she saw the gaping hole in his chest. What little remained of his heart beat visibly, but the palpitations were very weak and sporadic. Some kind of curse was turning his skin necrotic around the immediate puncture site, and the marks were slowly creeping around his torso and neck. The man’s endurance was being put through the ultimate test as his body fought to keep the curse under control.

Nightingale examined the wound with a stoic expression, then said, “I’ve never seen a wound like this. Even so, I shall not turn away. Should you fall into Hell, I’ll drag you back out.”

“Heh… Sounds like something to look forward to… Ungh!” he groaned. Without much thought for how much pain he was in, she dug her fingers into the hole and started poking around. He shouted in a shrill tone, “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! What do you think you’re doing!? Can’t you see that my heart’s been crushed!?”

“I’m shocked that you can stay conscious, never mind talk. Anyway, the first thing I must do is cut your heart out. Your blood circulation is poor, so I must excise all unnecessary parts to minimize the amount of blood you need in your system. This means the limbs and all organs except for your lungs must be removed!”

“ _Wait just a damn minute!_ Are you out of your mind!? How did you go from repairing my heart to turning me into an amputee!?”

“What’s the problem? So long as you are alive, all else is of no concern to me.”

“But I’ll lose my ability to fight!”

“You are an individual who has taken root in this world. Your only concern should be surviving. Nay, not a concern, but a duty!”

“Easy for you to say! You’re not the one with a giant hole in their chest!”

“Just relax. Come what may, I will heal you. That I promise!”

Ituha anxiously watched the exchange while clasping her hands together. She had to keep her nerves under control so she wouldn’t pass out from seeing so much blood and gore. She forced herself to look away, instead focusing on the man’s face as she asked, “So who might you be? I’ve seen some soldiers from this country, but you don’t look like one.”

“Oh, me?” he smirked. “I’m Rama, the king of Kosala.”

“Kosala?”

“If you want to know more – OOWWWW! Ungh… R-Read the _Ramayana_! AHHHH! Son of a bitch! That hurts, dammit!”

Nightingale clenched her teeth and shouted, “This is so irritating! I’m healing as best as I can, but I cannot stop this encroaching death! The best I can do is slow it down! But I won’t give up! So long as I draw air, I will keep trying! Damn, damn, damn! Who on Earth were you fighting to give you such a fatal wound!?”

“M-My opponent was… I was struck down… by none other than… Ireland’s Child of Light… Cuchulainn. Unnngh!”

“Cuchu… lainn…?” Ituha mumbled under her breath. Her pallor suddenly turned pale as paper, and she stepped away from the scene to compose herself. Something about that name seemed to trigger an emotion in her mind. It wasn’t a concrete thought, so much as it was a feeling of nostalgia.

“Hm,” Geronimo nodded direly. “If Cuchulainn ever aims his spear Gae Bolg at an enemy, it will always pierce their heart. I was hoping to get you away from there before that happened, but alas, I was too late. I mean no offense, but even if you are the great hero of the _Ramayana_ , not even you would be able to avoid a blow that is meant to hit 100% of the time.”

“No offense taken… Argh! That’s just… how it goes! Oohf!” Rama grunted.

The Native American put his hand on Ituha’s shoulder and said, “Come on, let’s leave Nightingale to her work. We will wait for her prognosis.”

“Mm.”

As the two Servants left the inn, they noticed some of the Resistance soldiers scrambling about in an unusual hurry. Geronimo hailed one man down and asked, “What’s going on?”

“Celtic scouts have been spotted and are heading this way! Billy and Robin are holding them off for now, but we need all available troops for battle!”

“Blast it. Our situation always seems to take a turn for the worse… Very well! I shall assist them immediately!”

Ituha took out her slingshot and exclaimed, “I’ll help too!”

“You must not! You are already fatigued from our battle with Karna! A child like you should not fight consecutive battles like this!”

“Then would it be okay if I guarded this building instead? I don’t want anything to interrupt Lord Rama’s treatment.”

“Hmph… Guess there’s no choice. Hold the fort here then!”

“Yes, sir!”

Ituha watched him leave, then stood in front of the inn and maintained a defensive line in case any enemies came into town. She couldn’t really see what was going on with the battle up ahead, other than it was absolute hysteria in the distance as Resistance soldiers battled against a gang of scouts comprising some Celtic soldiers and were-men warriors. Dust rose around them, so visibility was even worse than before. It certainly felt like she was watching a battle in a Spaghetti Western film, except the potential for casualties was much too real.

As she nervously observed the fighting, she caught some sort of movement from the corner of her eye and looked up at the sky. A small dragon had soared over the battle and flew straight for the hamlet. It roared at Ituha when it spotted her, intent on making her its next prey.

“I won’t let you!” she exclaimed and readied her slingshot. Her anxiety seemed to be replaced with a burst of courage as she prepared to shoot the monster down. With a deft movement of her fingers, she released her grip on the strap and let fly a large rock that shot at the dragon’s head. She heard a distinct cracking sound, followed by the beast crying out in pain before plummeting to the ground with a loud crash. She murmured to herself, “Did it work?”

Ituha ran up to it to confirm if it was dead or not. Its skull was definitely caved in, and some brain matter started to leak out as a goopy substance around the cracks. The wyvern didn’t even so much as budge when she touched its scales. Soon enough, its body turned into pure darkness and evaporated into ashes.

“Good, it’s dead,” she sighed in relief, then turned to head back to the inn, oblivious to the Celtic archer that was taking aim at her from atop a building. A piercing gunshot rang out, stopping the child mid-step. She saw that Nightingale had ran outside and fired her pistol at the archer. He lost his balance and fell from the roof to the ground, dead as could be from a bullet to the head. Like with the dragon, his form turned black and vaporized into nothing.

“Are you all right?” the nurse asked.

“Yes, I’m unharmed. Mr. Geronimo went to fight the scouts.”

“Good. I cannot afford any interruptions to the patient’s treatment, but I must also think of your safety.”

“Is Lord Rama doing okay?”

“I wish I could answer in the affirmative, but alas, my efforts are not saving him. I will keep trying though.”

With that, Nightingale went back inside to continue caring for Rama. No more enemies breached the front line, so Ituha didn’t have to worry about defeating any more monsters on her own. The battle continued to wage for another half hour before the Resistance soldiers emerged victorious from cleaning up the Celtic scouts. Many wounded men returned, although their lives would not be in serious danger. Their casualties were minimal thanks to Geronimo’s help, but they needed to bring some bodies back for burial.

The Apache warrior returned to Ituha’s side and said, “My apologies, but we let a couple slip past. Were you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Ms. Nightingale and I managed to defeat them.”

“Good. I feel bad for subjecting you to such bitter experiences. Unfortunate as it is, we are truly in the middle of a war for our survival.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a bit scared, to be honest, but I still want to help. Even if I have to stay in the back lines, that’s good enough for me.”

“Very well. Let either Nightingale or myself know if you’re not feeling well. Now then, how goes with Rama’s treatment?”

“She said she wasn’t making much progress.”

“Is that so? Then we need a new course of action. Let’s have a word with her.”

Geronimo and Ituha went inside the inn to see how Nightingale was faring in her efforts to treat Rama.

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

† - “Flickering Candle”


	5. Cleansing With A Vengeance

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 5: Cleansing With A Vengeance**

Inside the inn, Nightingale dabbed some antiseptic on Rama’s wound before covering it with a copious amount of bandages. Geronimo and Ituha entered the room, and the former asked, “How’s his condition?”

“I’ve repaired as much of his heart as I can, but 10% of it is already deteriorating once again. The only way I can stave this off is with continuous treatment, and even then it is only a stopgap measure before his inevitable death,” Nightingale shook her head in disappointment. “I only have my own incompetence to blame for this outcome, but I will not give up on him. As long as he is willing to not give up, then I shall fight just as hard so he may live. Yet, there is too much I do not know about this curse. If either of you have any information to offer, then tell me at once!”

“I may be a warrior shaman, but this type of witchcraft is beyond my expertise,” Geronimo admitted, then looked at Ituha. “On the other hand, you’re a Celt, aren’t you? Although you may not remember anything about yourself, you must be familiar with the culture and folklore.”

“Well, I suppose so,” the child frowned. “I feel like I have a strong connection with that part of the world. But I can’t promise that I know anything that will be useful.”

“That’s okay. Any knowledge you have will be worth its weight in gold.”

She took another look at Rama’s wound, not necessarily at his ruined heart, but at the strange dark marks that were coursing their way across his flesh. She explained, “Celts are known for their use of curses and geasa to either strengthen themselves at a cost, or to hinder their opponents in some way. Even I know how famous Gae Bolg is – it reverses cause and effect to guarantee death to the enemy. I just find it strange that Lord Rama is still alive despite these odds.”

“In a way, the patient’s willpower is negating Gae Bolg’s effects,” Nightingale explained. “But while he may have high endurance, it means nothing if we cannot lift this curse off of him. How do we get rid of it?”

“Curses are always dispelled when you kill the one who placed it. That means the most guaranteed way to save him is to kill Cuchulainn.”

“That’s not going to be easy. We need this patient at full health to help us defeat Cuchulainn, yet we must defeat him in order to restore this man’s condition.”

“I know that. It’s the most efficient method of purification, but I’m sure it’s not the only one.”

“Do you know of an alternative?”

“Well… It’s kind of hard to explain, but it feels like this world is greatly distorted.”

Geronimo narrowed his eyes. “So you sensed it as well? It is as if life itself is in a precarious state of fluctuations.”

Ituha nodded. “If I were to give it an analogy, the world is sick, and the ‘distortion’ is the antibody it needs to fight against the toxic invaders. That distortion is what’s summoning Servants to this land – we’re like white blood cells that protect the world from illness. These fluctuations are trying to expel the foreign intruders while strengthening the existences of the natural antibodies.”

“Hmm… A fitting analogy,” Nightingale smirked. “But then, what does this mean for the patient?”

“Basically, he needs to have his existence strengthened so that it overrides the curse. The best way is for Lord Rama to make contact with a Servant who knew him in his lifetime. If someone else is familiar with how his physical form is designed, they can improve his connection to this world and increase the efficacy of your healing techniques.”

“So he’s like a white blood cell that has lost its strength. In order to revitalize him, another white blood cell that is extremely close to him needs to assist me.”

“I think so. I know it’s kind of difficult to understand, but should everything go well, his existence should grow strong enough to override the curse. Maybe it won’t eliminate it, but at least he’ll be strong enough to fight Cuchulainn and hopefully destroy him.”

“That seems to be our best option. The only trouble is finding a Servant who knows this man personally.”

“Ungh…” Rama grunted. “T-There’s someone who fits your criteria… I can sense her in this world. I know she’s here…”

“Who would that be?” Nightingale asked.

“My wife, Sita. I heard that she was being held captive here. That’s why I was fighting Cuchulainn – to get the location where she is imprisoned.”

Geronimo said, “I see. The front lines need to be preserved, but Rama’s treatment is equally as imperative. Should he regain his full strength, he could be a match for Karna. To that end, we must search for Sita as soon as possible and have her aid us.”

“But do we know where she is at the moment?” Ituha wondered.

Rama groaned, “I’m afraid… I didn’t get her location.”

“Oh, dear…”

“Don’t worry,” Nightingale assured. “I’ll keep treating him for as long as it takes until we find her.”

Finding themselves to be at a loss on this angle, Geronimo explained, “Aside from healing Rama, we also must formulate a strategy for dealing with Edison and the Celts. We already know that the Celtic leaders are capable of reproducing soldiers infinitely, so trying to reduce their numbers is foolishness. On the other hand, Edison’s mass-produced infantry follows the same principle. For now, both sides are using sheer numbers to force each other into a stalemate. That unusual tornado which touched down a few days ago also wiped out thousands, so there’s been a sort of ‘middle line’ drawn between them.”

“There’s something I don’t get, though,” Ituha wondered.

“What’s wrong?”

“I understand that Mr. Edison is an amazing inventor, but why is he the President? Shouldn’t it be someone else?”

“Oh, that. The Celts assassinated the Founding Father George Washington before he could be instated as the very first President of America. Thomas Edison was summoned as a Servant and given command thanks to him being summoned in his native land.”

“Hmm…” Nightingale hummed to herself, thinking of the unusual ‘possession’ she felt emanating from the Presi-King before.

Geronimo continued, “America prides itself on mass-producing war machines at an enormous scale. It’s only natural that the world-famous King of Inventions would be summoned here to face the Celts. But that’s not going to be enough. That leads to my main point – while Edison’s existence here is indeed abnormal, the Celts’ invasion is beyond extraordinary. Should they continue advancing west, this world will be eventually destroyed.

“Wasting our resources and trying to fight them head-on is not an option. In that case, there’s only one drastic measure of action that can be taken here; assassination. We gather as many Resistance Servants as we can and kill the leaders Cuchulainn and Medb so that they cannot spawn any more soldiers.”

“So our current task is to meet other friendly Servants?” Ituha asked.

“Exactly. If we’re lucky, one of them may know where Rama’s wife is being held. Well, I say that, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

Rama muttered, “That’s fine. Anything’s better than just sitting here.”

“Excellent. Everything we do is so we can return this land to its rightful owners – the people who shall forge this fertile country into a mighty civilization!”

“Well spoken, Warrior of the Apache,” Nightingale concurred. “Now then, if you just give me a moment, I need to prepare the patient for transport.”

“Transport!?” Rama exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock. “What are you-!? AAAAHH! OO~OOWWW!”

Ituha and Geronimo winced as they watched the nurse forcefully wrap the swordsman in a series of blankets. She slung a makeshift strap around her shoulder and waist, then hauled him in her arms so she was carrying him with some support from the strap. If she was bothered by having to carry a person around for miles on end, she certainly didn’t show it.

“This is ridiculous!” Rama objected, appearing to be blushing profusely. “This is how I used to carry Sita around – like a princess! To be reduced to this state is nothing short of pure shame!”

“Oh my…” Ituha paled.

“Well…” Geronimo uttered. “The rumors about you are true, Ms. Nightingale. You truly are an angel… um… _admired_ by her patients…”

“This is a far cry from admiration!” Rama shouted. “Put me down already, you iron-willed demon!”

The nurse grumbled, “Think nothing of it. I’m used to dealing with violent patients. If he struggles too much, I can always give him a sedative.”

“Don’t say that like I’m not here!”

“Shall we get going then?”

“You’re ignoring me on purpose, aren’t you!?”

* * *

A platoon of Celtic soldiers and monsters marched westward through Georgia from South Carolina, reaching as southwest as they could go through the original 13 colonies of America before heading out into the war zone that would be known as Alabama in the future. These forces had been summoned by Medb through her own power of spawning soldiers with her blood along with the power of the Holy Grail sustaining their existences.

They continued on their path towards the next battle, wherever that may be. Their journey was uneventful going through Celtic territory, venturing onward to the northern top of Logan Martin Lake toward the area where the town of Locust Fork would be established several decades later. Along the way though, the were-men were appearing unusually agitated by their surroundings. Their sense of smell was much stronger compared to their human counterparts, so when something amiss was in the air, they would detect it right away.

“What’s wrong?” one of the human soldiers asked.

A wolf-man wielding dual daggers sniffed, then said, “Something’s been tailing us.”

“For how long?”

“The last mile or so. It doesn’t smell like steel, so it can’t be those mechs.”

“Maybe they’re allies.”

“No, the scent isn’t the same as ours. It’s completely different.”

“Hmph. Assume it’s an enemy and take them out.”

As the group of around 30 warriors concurred with this decision, that was when the birds squawked in surprise and flew away all at once. They felt a gust of wind blow past them and thought nothing of it at first… Until one of the druids collapsed onto the grass in a gory mess of body parts and organs!

“W-What the hell!?” an archer shouted and trained his bow and arrow at whatever this force was. The wind returned, and his arms were sliced clean off and plopped on the ground first before his legs, torso and head followed suit. The other warriors were astonished by this killer gust, but remained steadfast and kept a sharp eye out for whoever this intruder was. The trees and bushes swayed in random directions as a small figure leapt and pounced about with inhuman speed. When they landed, the soldiers finally got to get a good look at the murderous stranger.

They thought it was going to be some flexible man or a woman who could move at such ridiculous speeds. They never imagined that their foe was a child wearing a loose green dress beneath a white fur coat and hood. The hood had fake wolf ears on the top, and a false wolf tail swayed from their belt. The child wore white mittens and moccasins which, chillingly, were not stained red with blood from the two victims they just slaughtered. The white clothing remained as pristine as if they had been cleaned that day. The ensemble would have been cute, were it not for the child wearing a spooky animal-themed mask to completely conceal their original appearance. In addition, they wielded a wooden spear in their right hand, which was stained with some blood. It was impossible to tell what the kid’s gender was because they never spoke.

 ** _“KILL IT!”_** one of the warriors screamed.

The others rushed toward the child as a united force. The intruder didn’t seem to care and waited for them to get close, then spun high in mid-air and conjured a series of blustery twisters around their body to give them a boost in speed. In a vicious display of raw brutality, coupled with a disturbing silence, the kid dashed and darted around in no discernible pattern while slashing their spear at the unprepared warriors. Blood flew about everywhere and sprayed in many directions. Heads, limbs and body parts separated from each other and fell as ghastly heaps of flesh and blood.

 _“This kid’s like a fucking blender! We’re being turned into bloody paste!”_ a were-man screamed and tried to run away. The child descended upon him and cut open his back to expose his spine and ribcage. The carnage finally caused some of their coat and gloves to be stained red, but they weren’t concerned about dirty clothing. All that mattered was that anyone they laid their sights on was dead, no questions asked.

The whole thing took around a minute, then everything was quiet once again. The feral child looked around at the destruction they caused, then sauntered over to one of the butchered corpses and took out a small knife. They cut into the chest to expose the non-beating heart, then pulled it out and started eating it whole. They felt a small surge of mana coursing through their veins and arteries – after all, this was a Servant who needed mana to sustain themselves, and there was no better food source than the Celts’ respawning soldiers born from the Holy Grail.

The child took its time enjoying the meal, making sure to cut up and eat the relevant parts of their victims and discarding the rest for the actual animals to devour. While they were busy feasting however, goosebumps prickled their skin and made the hairs stand on end. A sinister, potent aura permeated the air. It was getting closer too. They heard footsteps rustling the grass, but they weren’t sure from where at first. The child’s eyes slowly turned aside as they noticed something in the corner of their sight. They tilted their head up, baring their sharp teeth. Their chin, cheeks and mouth dripped with blood and saliva, and they heaved so heavily that a puff of breath curled in front of their face.

Standing there tall and mighty as a warlord was Cuchulainn Alter, looking as equally angry as the unknown Berserker. He had heard the commotion and came running to find this visceral mess. Normally his attitude was mired in constant lassitude and disinterest in everything around him. However, as he gazed upon the mystery Servant’s brutal bloodshed and flagrant cannibalism, a fury he thought he’d never experience again raged in his soul. Gae Bolg shone red in response to his anger, and he got into his battle position. Likewise, the child hunched on all fours like a hungry animal, trembling with unbridled wrath.

Neither of them said anything to each other. There really wasn’t any need to speak. Both of them were Berserkers, having succumbed to insanity, who would fight to the gory death. Not only that, they also housed wild animals in their souls that yearned to unleash absolute carnage upon their enemy. They stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time, waiting for one to make the first move.

Not a sound could be heard. The world around them was perfectly silent. Any wildlife that had been around immediately retreated upon sensing the seething aura surrounding these two.

Then, without any apparent warning, the two fighters lunged at each other.

* * *

After the Servants were finished in the previous town, they headed eastward toward the territory that would become Texas around 60 years later. Most of the area was dry and desolate, and it was also dangerously wide open for attackers to try and assault them. Fortunately, the heroes would also be able to see them coming and prepare accordingly. Geronimo took the lead, Ituha remained near him, and Nightingale was in the rear carrying a thoroughly embarrassed Rama in her arms.

“Where are we going, Mr. Geronimo?” Ituha asked the Native American.

He replied, “We’re going to rendezvous with two other Servants I made my acquaintance with earlier. Both of them are Archers like you are. Remember that green cloak we used back in Denver? It belongs to one of them.”

“What are their True Names?”

“I didn’t get to learn that. They’re both specialists in guerilla warfare and are quite wary of society, so they were not willing to divulge their names to me. I have a hunch as to who they are, but I don’t want to make any assumptions.”

“Fair enough.”

“They’re both experienced in utilizing unscrupulous tactics such as traps, poisons and sniper fire, but they’re not front line warriors. The best they can do is minimize the damage that the Celts are causing with their savagery. Things are made harder when the Celts are not mobilized as one united force with predictable movements.”

“Just as I thought. Celts are known for following an overall mission, but how they accomplish it is up to each individual.”

“Precisely. It gives them the freedom to be as vicious as they please.”

Ituha looked back at Nightingale while she was carrying Rama, and she asked the swordsman, “How are you doing?”

“Argh… To be carted around like a sack of potatoes… in a woman’s arms, no less… How disgraceful,” Rama moaned pitifully.

“Don’t say that. No one is going to judge you for saving your strength to fight the curse.”

“I-I’m glad to hear that, but… Ungh!”

“Ituha, please do not disturb the patient,” Nightingale scolded the child. “This is not just any body bag for him to rest in – it is a one-of-a-kind, specialized Rama Bag.”

“A Rama Bag…” Ituha raised an eyebrow curiously, wondering how the nurse could say something so silly with such a straight face. She decided not to bother them further and asked Geronimo, “A-Anyway, if the Celts are behaving on an individual basis, what about the Americans? How is Mr. Edison moving his troops?”

“Hmm,” he grumbled. “Although Edison is far more civil than Cuchulainn, he’s still conscripting people into his factories and forcing them to work on mass production of those mechs we saw before.”

“Wow. Their leadership is very different, yet it feels so similar.”

“You got that right. Even so, many have sought refuge with the West, preferring slavery over being slaughtered. It gives me great assurance that we don’t need to worry about the civilians’ safety at this point.”

Geronimo was about to continue talking, but he suddenly stopped in mid-sentence and hissed, “Hide!”

Ituha gasped and joined the others behind a large rock formation. The Apache warrior had been startled when he noticed a group of Celts walking along the desert in the distance.

“Scouts,” he said. “We may not have been spotted yet, but if they find the previous town, they’ll be decimated without us to provide backup.”

Without any provocation, Nightingale sat Rama against the rock and dashed along the barren wasteland with a vengeance, screaming along the way, _“I shall purify all illness that stands in my way! Time for a thorough disinfection!”_

“And there she goes,” Ituha moaned wryly.

“Heh heh. I saw that coming from a mile away,” Geronimo chuckled. “Since she’s willing to intercept them herself, I’ll see about cutting off their escape routes. You stay here and protect Rama.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hurried after Nightingale, and Ituha ducked behind the rock formation so that she would stay out of sight. She kneeled next to Rama and sighed, “Hah… I know I haven’t done much to contribute, but I feel so exhausted.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. A child like you doesn’t belong on the battlefield anyway,” Rama assured, then groaned in agony. “I-I’m just glad that crazy nurse… didn’t drag me along with her… to that fight…”

“You’re right.”

They remained there for a short while, then the swordsman seemed to recall something and said, “There’s something I wanted to ask you about real quick.”

“What is it?” Ituha leaned in.

“When I was slain by Cuchulainn, he said something rather strange – that he was instigating this war for some woman’s sake.”

“Some woman? Wouldn’t that be Queen Medb then?”

“I don’t think it was her,” Rama shook his head. “He said that he was seeking a world of peace and quiet for this unknown female, and Medb is hardly that kind of person. Cuchulainn’s goal is to destroy everyone who contradicts his idea of a world of silence, so that this female may enjoy it without anyone causing suffering to her. Do you know of anyone like that who comes to mind?”

Ituha hummed to herself as she thought about the Celtic folklore she was familiar with. After a minute of pondering, she said, “There are some women in Cuchulainn’s legend such as his mentor Scathach, or his wife Emer. My understanding is that he was quite the playboy, so he must have come across a number of women in his lifetime.”

“That monstrosity, a womanizer? Preposterous.”

“Believe it or not, it’s the popular opinion about his personality. Other than that, I don’t really know.”

“I see. Maybe I’m just looking into it too much…” Rama moaned. Then a bizarre smile crept across his face as he looked at Ituha and wondered, “If you’re really a Celt, then maybe you might be applicable as this unknown female as well.”

“What!?” she yelped. “I-I mean, sure, I don’t remember my True Name, but that doesn’t mean I have any connection with such a dangerous man!”

“Heh heh, settle down. It’s just a joke. I don’t think Cuchulainn knew any children in his lifetime other than the boy troop of the Red Branch Army when he was younger. But who knows? Maybe you’re one of them manifested as a Servant.”

“Perhaps…”

Just like with the skirmish in the previous town, Nightingale and Geronimo finished off the Celtic scouts before any of them could escape, leaving none of them alive to report their location to any superiors. The duo returned to their hiding comrades, and the nurse said, “Extermination complete. Hygienically speaking, it was a job well done,” Nightingale said.

Rama grumbled, “Geez… I wish there was something we could do about her personality.”

Geronimo said, “But she’s a Berserker.”

Ituha wondered, “I thought it’s because she’s Ms. Nightingale.”

“No matter which way you look at it, her uncompromising conviction is a Madness Enhancement of its own. I dread to think if she was like this when she was alive.”

“Hmm…” the child looked over at the woman, who didn’t look concerned about the gossip surrounding her as she hauled Rama over her shoulders piggyback style.

“In any case, we’re getting close to the next town. Those two Archers I told you about are there. Unfortunately, judging from those scouts we just fought, it’s highly likely that they’re under attack as well.”

“So those pathogens were part of a larger contamination!?” Nightingale uttered in surprise. “We have no time to waste! Until the war on disease and infection is over, my legs shall carry me to the other ends of the Earth! Onward!”

“Hey, what!? Are you serious!?” Rama protested as she dashed at full speed while still carrying him. He tried to argue with her further, but his voice got quieter as they made distance between themselves and the other two Servants.

“Now I think I know why I’m so exhausted,” Ituha complained.

“I agree,” Geronimo said. “Alas, we must push forward until we have made it safe to rest. Let’s follow them.”

* * *

The next town over was very similar in appearance and function to the previous one, being a small settlement where pioneers and travelers could either rest for a day or live here for life. Unfortunately, the flames of war caught up to this hamlet, with the fierce battle between a larger force of Celts and the defending Resistance decimating the buildings. Of the Resistance members, two Archer-class Servants were there to assist with cleaning up the stronger Celtic warriors.

The first man had short, messy orange hair that greatly contrasted his deep green cape and bowman’s clothing, and he wielded a crossbow attached to his right wrist. He looked like he belonged better in a medieval forest than in the middle of the dusty wilderness. Compared to him, the second Archer’s garb and weapon were much more appropriate for the cowboy setting. He had short, bushy sand-blonde hair and wore a brown coat, pants and vest, black gloves, and dual wielded a Colt single action .44 pistol and a Colt double-action .41 pistol he nicknamed ‘Thunderer’.

“Hm? Did you hear that?” the man in green asked.

“Sounded like fighting from further west,” the gunman said, his voice sounding strangely more like a teenager’s than a proper male tone. “Did someone pick off the scouts that got away?”

“Looks like it. The Old Man finally got us some reinforcements!”

“Yeah, but… Uhh…”

“What?”

“Remind me again – is Geronimo a crazy-eyed pink-haired woman in military attire hauling a person around on her shoulders?”

“The hell is that supposed to be? Not even a banshee sounds as scary as that!”

Just as the man in green said that, Nightingale reached the battlefield and took out her pistol from her holster while shouting, “Where are the contagions!? I must eliminate them quickly!”

“Not while carrying me around, you will!” Rama raged. “Aaaaagh! Ow, ow, ow! This isn’t even funny anymore!”

A couple of Celtic soldiers spotted the new arrivals and charged at them, but the nurse immediately fired at their chests and killed them, then shouted, “Don’t interfere with my treatment! Any germs that dare to get near my patient will be hygienically removed without mercy!”

“How should I say this…? Not even ‘ridiculous’ is a word fitting for this situation…”

“Hey you,” the youthful-sounding gunman said to Rama. “Are you on our side?”

“I think so, assuming you’re one of the Archers Geronimo told us about.”

“Great! Hey, Green! They’re allies!”

“Phew, about time,” the orange-haired fellow sighed in relief. “Most of the enemies have been dealt with already, but I was afraid of having to fight that terrifying woman next. By the way… should I ask why you’re being carried around on her back?”

“Please don’t,” Rama moaned. “It’s long, complicated, and convoluted.”

The gunman noticed Geronimo and Ituha running toward them. He pointed in their direction and asked, “Are they allies as well?”

“Yes. They’re very reliable, more so than I am right now.”

“Hm? But one of them’s a Celt…”

“Don’t worry. She’s not with the enemy forces.”

“A traitor, then?”

“Not quite.”

The green-garbed man said, “I don’t get what’s going on, but I’ll take any help you can spare. I took a look just outside town, and there seems to be a strange beast heading in our direction. It might take all of us combined to slay it.”

“What do you mean by ‘strange’?” the gunman asked.

“I wish I could describe it, but I can’t.”

Geronimo and Ituha joined the fray just as the group of Servants heard the pitter-pattering of some animal’s running footsteps rushing toward them. From around the corner, a four-legged black animal emerged and spotted the menagerie of warriors. Just as the bowman claimed, it really was difficult to describe this thing in words, other than its head, legs and tail were covered in tentacles that resembled a brain’s grooves and ridges. Its mouth had huge human-like teeth set in a square jaw, and its claws were pitch black. This thing was known as a Soul Eater, not attached to any particular culture’s mythical bestiary, but more of a hound summoned from Hell itself.

“Oh, the humanity!” Nightingale yelled angrily. “Now we have wild animals running all over the place! I dread to imagine the pestilence festering inside their filthy hides! Furthermore, this one is an especially dangerous breeding bed for bacteria! Time to bring out the triple-power antiseptic! If at all possible, use your fire magic to burn this quadrupedal excrescence to a crisp, Ituha!”

“Uh… I’m not sure I understand those words you’re using, but I’ll do my best!” the child exclaimed.

Geronimo narrowed his eyes and said, “It looks to be an Assassin-type monster. As a Caster, I suppose it’s my turn to shine.”

“Good!” the blonde-haired gunman smiled. “Let’s clean up house, y’all!”


	6. Turbulent Feral Child

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 6: Turbulent Feral Child**

The Soul Eater let out a shrill roar and ran at the team of Servants. Everyone jumped out of the way, and the three Archers immediately ran back to make some distance between them while Geronimo and Nightingale remained in the front lines to keep the creature occupied. Even though the nurse had Rama slung upon her back, his weight didn’t seem to deter her from boldly jumping in and slamming the foul beast’s head with some roundhouse kicks. It suddenly sunk its teeth into her leg, and she yelped audibly. Geronimo stabbed his dagger into the monster’s midsection, but it wasn’t bothered by the injury and swept its claws at him.

“Blast it!” Nightingale cursed while healing her leg of the bite marks. “I will be more than upset if this gets infected!”

“For someone who is paranoid about contamination, you don’t seem to have a problem exposing yourself to those same risks!” Rama exclaimed.

“What of it? My blood is just as precious as every other soldier’s. If shedding my blood means that others will be spared, then I will gladly do so.”

“I don’t get you sometimes…”

 _“Look out, you two!”_ Geronimo shouted just as the Soul Eater charged at the Berserker and her wounded patient. Nightingale hopped, stepped on its head, and tumbled in midair to land back on her feet. The monster ignored her and went after the Archers. Billy was too fast for it to catch, and after he somersaulted on the dirt, he fired his pistols multiple times to embed a fusillade of bullets in its thick hide. It spotted Robin as the closest Servant it could attack and dashed at him.

“Whoa!” he grunted and rolled aside. Just as the creature passed him, a strange trap detonated beneath its paws and engulfed its skin in deadly toxins. Robin proudly snapped his fingers and said, “Hope you like my extra special concoction of poison!”

The Soul Eater started to look a little woozy from being assaulted by so many Servants at once. If it were just one or two, it would have no trouble slaughtering them. Wary of going after Robin again, it turned its attention to the last Archer. Ituha drew her slingshot and enchanted the stones with Ansuz Runes before shooting them at the monster. Bursts of fire exploded on its flesh and exposed the inner layers of skin and bones. It realized that it wasn’t going to be able to kill all of the Servants, so it decided to at least try and take down the one it thought was the weakest. Ituha looked to be the most vulnerable of them all, so it barged straight for the astonished child.

 _“HEY! OVER HERE!”_ Billy screamed, desperately running alongside the animal while shooting his guns. It ignored him and tackled its bleeding body against the petite girl, knocking her right off her feet and making her collapse on the ground.

“Not good!” Robin yelped and shot with his crossbow, while Nightingale hurried past him to try and intercept the creature. Ituha looked up just as it bared its blunt teeth that were dripping with saliva, intent on making her its next meal. Suddenly, Geronimo’s voice boomed throughout the area, and the scenery turned dark.

“Oh, spirit! Oh, sun! Please lend me your powers for this moment! Show us the great trick once again! **_Tsago Degi Naleya!_** ”

The image of a god-like coyote appeared between Ituha and the Soul Eater, and the regal animal howled like a wolf. Then the flaming red sun shone bright and sent a massive wave of fire against the monster that burned it to death. The heat settled and became a warm glow that slightly healed everyone’s wounds. Once Geronimo’s Noble Phantasm concluded, no sign of the Soul Eater could be seen anywhere.

“Got it!” the Apache warrior exclaimed.

“Hey, are you okay!?” Billy shouted at Ituha, holding her unconscious body in his arms. She had passed out right when she saw the intimidating abomination standing above her.

Nightingale examined her quickly, then reported, “She’s uninjured. She only blacked out from shock.”

“That’s good.”

“Is there somewhere she can rest?”

“Not really. All of the beds here are unusable.”

“Then find a safe place for her. I need to continue treating Rama’s heart so the curse doesn’t destroy it.”

With the battle over, Billy looked around for a spot where Ituha could sleep, while Nightingale laid Rama on a nearby porch and healed his wound. Geronimo and Robin split up to see if the other Resistance soldiers were okay.

* * *

Deep within the border of southern Tennessee and northern Mississippi, two Berserkers ceased their battle and glared at each other from a safe distance. The entire area they had been dueling in until now was utterly decimated, with cut grass and fallen trees littering the place everywhere. The Mad King Cuchulainn stood tall and deftly spun Gae Bolg about in his hand, while the small feral child who was his opponent remained perfectly still and silent.

“Heh… Guess the rumors were true,” Cuchulainn smirked and licked some blood off his mouth. No opponent until now had actually wounded him at all, never mind gouged, pierced and lacerated him as badly as the child did. Even though he was up against an extremely dangerous foe, for once he actually felt glad to be alive in this era. He took some slow, deliberate steps toward the petite figure who had given him a lot more trouble than he anticipated.

“I heard that ever since my daughter caused that storm, my men were being slaughtered and eaten by an unknown calamity that they’ve been calling ‘Fia-Leanbh’. I didn’t quite understand it at first, but to think that a little brat like you is the one responsible… I find it hard to fathom, but since you are in the way of my war, I have to eliminate you.”

“…”

“You probably don’t even understand what I’m saying… Well, that’s fine. The less I have to converse with my prey, the better. Prepare to die, you rabid beast,” Cuchulainn grinned, showing his blood-covered sharp teeth.

The child, now nicknamed Fia-Leanbh, shuddered at his movements and immediately hopped high into the air to land in a tree. They looked up to the sky and noticed a stray flock of wyverns flying above the battlefield. Without hesitation, the kid leapt towards the nearest dragon and grabbed its leg before nimbly vaulting onto the base of its tail. The monster didn’t seem to notice its tiny passenger as it kept flying forward.

“Trying to run away?” Cuchulainn sniggered. “It’s pointless to try.”

He dashed forth and pursued the wyvern with incredible agility for someone of his large size. Fia watched as the monstrous man ran so fast that he was beginning to outpace the dragon’s flight speed. The wyvern noticed his presence and circled around to attack him. That proved to be a huge mistake because the grinning Cuchulainn raised Gae Bolg in a vertical slashing motion and made one powerful slicing motion. Fia leapt off their impromptu mount an instant before the spear cleaved through the wyvern and split it into perfect halves that collapsed to the ground in a gush of blood.

While he was busy slaying the dragon, Fia hurried through the forest in a frantic bid to escape from him. They ducked, weaved, and bobbed around dozens of trees in an attempt to lose him with confusing movements. Suddenly, they had to skid their feet over grass and fallen leaves, coming to a full and unexpected stop when they saw the irate Cuchulainn’s large form land in front of them, after he had pursued the child and jumped over them to cut off their escape.

“Now, now, it’s not nice to back out of a fight with a king,” he chided sinisterly.

Fia equipped their wooden spear and immediately pounced upon him. They began another round of furious dueling, and sparks flew everywhere as their weapons struck each other in rapid succession. Cuchulainn was getting frustrated by the child’s petite stature, which allowed them to evade his higher strikes and forced him to fight at a lower level, which he wasn’t accustomed to. The kid’s gymnastic prowess was not to be ignored either since they performed some logic-defying stunts to dodge his spontaneous strikes.

Eventually Cuchulainn found an opening and delivered a mighty kick to Fia’s shoulder, knocking them aside viciously. The kid recovered with ease and back flipped into a crouching position. Then they wordlessly unleashed their Noble Phantasm, Maiseite Gaoithe (“Wind Machete”), enveloping their body in a small tornado that granted them an incredible boost in speed while also turning them into a living cutting weapon. The child whirled around in random directions at such a ridiculous rate that not even the speed of blinking could match it. Cuchulainn couldn’t hope to counter this onslaught, and his flesh was torn apart with no mercy. One strike came very close to blowing his head off but he ducked aside in the nick of time, leaving the pinna of his upper ear to be sheared right off in a gush of blood.

Cuchulainn’s huge eyes, clenched teeth and astonished expression spoke for itself. Never before had the battle-hardened man been this close to death so many times in just a single fight. Fia didn’t care about his reaction and continued rushing around in a blinding flurry of movement and jumping. Grass and leaves were sliced about everywhere as the small figure became a living sickle that tore down everything in its path, resembling the Japanese _kamaitachi_ with its speed and cutting abilities. Furious with the child’s resistance, he swung Gae Bolg and slammed it against their abdomen, causing them to completely fold like a jackknife as their forward momentum was instantly interrupted. He hurled them several hundred meters before they smacked back-first against a tree. With a loud snarl, he threw his spear at their head, which they narrowly dodged.

Fia didn’t just dodge Gae Bolg however; when Cuchulainn summoned it back into his hands, the child held on to the spear and _rode along with it_ back to him. He wasn’t expecting his opponent to pull off such a daring move, so he failed to block a powerful kick to his cheek. He spit out some blood and furiously swung at them, fully intent on chopping them into indescribable meat ribbons. The young Servant was too nimble to allow that to happen however, so they just wound up dancing and hopping around his slashes.

The child vaulted aside and crouched upon a tree stump, holding their spear behind them in a hunched hunting pose while fixing their masked gaze upon the livid man. Cuchulainn exhaled in frustration and said, “You have some guts to try and make a fool out of me.”

“…”

“Normally I don’t care who my enemies are, but I’m feeling a little generous today. You’re the first opponent who’s had the skill and audacity to make me bleed. Tell me who you really are, and I might be willing to make a headstone in your memory.”

“…”

“… Nothing? Well whatever. I’ll find out who you are after I rip that mask off of your dead body.”

Fia didn’t care about what he was saying. In fact, they couldn’t understand human language in the first place. Once they saw Cuchulainn gear up to charge at them, they pounced off the stump moments before he sliced it clean through the middle. The child grabbed his hood and twirled their body over his head in an upside-down pose, tightly grabbing his shoulders before letting their lower torso fall behind him. In one smooth move, Fia had forced Cuchulainn to lean backwards at a frightening angle while pressing their legs against his back. Something crunched inside him. The cringing sound echoed throughout the forest, and he let out a howl of agony.

That move would have killed an ordinary human, but he somehow managed to survive having his spine broken. The child deftly flipped away and carefully watched him as he got onto his side and tried to use his legs. They only barely responded to his commands however, and he wasn’t in much condition to do more fighting. He used Gae Bolg to steady himself as he glared at Fia with a look that would scare even the Devil. The two embittered warriors prepared to launch themselves at each other for one last violent dervish.

**_“STOP!”_ **

The unexpected yell startled Fia and Cuchulainn and made them face towards the source of the new voice. A woman in her late 20’s dropped down from the tree branch she squatted upon and halted the two warriors. Her bodysuit was as deep purple as her long silky hair, and her crimson eyes accentuated the shadowy, mysterious aura surrounding her. She carried a thinner version of Gae Bolg with her at all times.

“That’s enough,” she declared to the white-cloaked Servant and pointed her spear at them. “You’re coming with me.”

The young stranger said nothing.

“It’s you…” Cuchulainn grumbled, recognizing the woman immediately. “What do you think you’re doing here, Scathach?”

“As much as I would prefer to reprimand you for this foolish role you have taken on as a king, my priorities lie elsewhere,” the mistress of Dun Scaith said with an even tone. “I’m taking the child with me.”

“No, you’re not. This whelp needs to perish for disrupting my war.”

“Feh. I knew Medb’s mind was twisted, but to think that she would warp you into such a cold-blooded beast is both unimaginable and easy to understand. Either way, I can’t let you have that girl.”

“That girl…?” Cuchulainn murmured, raising an eyebrow. This whole time, he actually wasn’t sure if he was fighting a boy or a girl due to how quiet the child was and how they obscured their features so well. A disturbing, sinking feeling had been bothering him during the battle, and hearing that simple word made it worse. His eye twitched in realization, and he snarled in disbelief, “So I’ve been getting tossed around by a little girl… Only one child has ever done that in my life…”

“I’m sure you have every idea who that Berserker really is by now. That’s why you need to stop and leave her to me.”

The Mad King clenched his teeth, refusing to relinquish his prey to his former teacher. While the two adults were preoccupied, Fia quickly conjured a Disengage skill and leapt back with both perfect silence and blinking agility. They only noticed her departure when they heard the grass rustling and her padded footsteps bouncing off the trees.

“Damn it!” Scathach cursed. “You won’t get away!”

She took chase after the mute Berserker and disappeared into the forest without any further regard to Cuchulainn. Even though he had the power to slaughter hundreds at any given time he wanted, he was very lucky to have survived this battle. He never imagined that the rumors of Fia being a force of nature would wind up being true rather than being dismissed as wild hyperbole from some frantic soldiers. He sighed and sat against a tree, completely exhausted from the fight. His mind drifted away from his narrow survival towards the unknown Berserker’s identity and what Scathach was implying.

_It can’t be her… It’s impossible… But those skills were definitely hers… It had to be her… There’s no one else like that…_

Cuchulainn rested his hand over his eyes.

_What the hell is going on here?_

* * *

Robin and Geronimo reunited with their allies and told them that there were some wounded soldiers, but that their lives were not in grave danger. Billy had sat Ituha upon a bullet-riddled barrel and leaned her head and back against the wall. She snored lightly, and he placed a sheet over her shoulders.

“Out like a light,” he whispered.

“I feel bad for dragging her around when she should be getting plenty of rest,” Geronimo said. “She really is trying hard to not slow us down.”

Robin asked, “So what’s the deal with the kid? Why is she fighting against her own people?”

“Allow me to explain.”

The Native American told the two Archers everything that had happened so far. It took about an hour for him to get them caught up, during which Nightingale continued treating Rama. Billy looked displeased as he murmured, “Amnesia, huh? Not exactly the best place and time to be worrying about getting her memories back.”

“I’m afraid we’ve made her recovery virtually last on our list of priorities, but she seems to understand the situation,” Nightingale said. “After I discharge my current patient, her treatment will be next on my to-do list.”

Rama muttered bitterly, “You’re not thinking of amputating her limbs to traumatize her into remembering her past, are you?”

“Depends.”

_“Don’t say something so morbid with such a calm attitude!”_

“Settle yourself. Yelling at me is a waste of your precious energy.”

“I swear… When I get my strength back, I’ll make sure you don’t do anything dangerous to Ituha!”

“Yeesh, scary…” Robin cringed. He said to Geronimo, “So the gist of it is we need to find more allies, heal this guy, and assassinate the Celts’ leaders, right? Sounds like something right up my alley.”

“Of course it would be,” Billy agreed. “The Faceless King never hesitates when it comes to espionage.”

“The same goes for you, Boy Outlaw King. We’re Servants who don’t mind doing the dirty work.”

“Yep. I’m not exactly in the mood to deal with guys who spawn infinitely. Terminating the head honchos is the only thing we can do to save this nation.”

Geronimo said, “However, we need to focus on finding more allies first. Our classes are not on an even level with the enemy forces. We have three Archers, myself as a Caster, Nightingale as a Berserker, and Rama as a Saber who is out of commission. It’d be best if we could find a Lancer or a second Saber to provide front-line cover. It’s problematic to protect ourselves when Nightingale goes running off to do her own thing. Furthermore, we need Servants who aren’t connected to the Celts or Americans.”

“Hmm…” Billy hummed. “I’m not aware of any Servants like that who were summoned.”

Robin started to look rather uncomfortable, as if he wanted to say something but that doing so would cause problems for the group. Geronimo asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Well… Actually, before I teamed up with the outlaw here, I ran into two Servants before – a Lancer and a Saber. The issue is… well, they’re rather rambunctious…? Or more like problem children that you can’t hope to keep under control. I may not know Ituha well, but even I can tell she’s hundreds of times more mature than those two.”

“Do they have Madness Enhancement, or are they Anti-Heroes?”

“One of them is definitely an Anti-Hero, and you can communicate with them just fine. It’s just… Ugh,” the bowman scratched his head. “I guess since we’re in need of Servants in those classes, I can show you where they are. Just don’t blame me when you meet them.”

“Come now. Compared to Nightingale, what’s another load of unnecessary baggage to us at this point?”

“I guess. It’s just that Nightingale’s scariness is a lot different than theirs.”

“Very well then,” Geronimo declared. “Once Ituha has rested enough, we will move out.”

The Servants wanted to get going for sure, but they figured it would be best to wait until Ituha and Rama were well enough before continuing the journey. Geronimo asked the two men, “Have you found out any new information about the Celts while I was gone?”

“Not that I know of,” Billy said. “I’ve been guarding this town for quite a while now, so I haven’t had a chance to leave.”

“There were a couple of interesting things I learned while wandering around,” Robin replied. “This might not be much, but I heard some strange rumor going around the Celtic grapevine. Apparently Cuchulainn named a successor a few months ago, but word is only beginning to spread.”

“A successor?” Geronimo murmured curiously. “How bold of him. He is acting like he has already won this war if he intends to hand this land over to the next in line. Who is this person?”

“I don’t know much about them other than they’re being called the Celtic Princess.”

“So it’s a girl? Could she be related to Medb? I heard that she had seven sons and one daughter.”

“No,” Robin dismissed the theory with disturbing ease. “Cuchulainn claimed to be the girl’s biological father. No one knows who the mother is, other than it’s not Medb.”

“If Cuchulainn is a Servant, it stands to reason that his child should be as well. Do you know her True Name?”

“I didn’t get to find that out. Looks like only the Celts’ higher ups know who she is. The only thing that the rank and file know about her is that she’s around six or seven years old.”

The others were astonished to hear that and simultaneously glanced over at the sleeping Ituha. Geronimo swallowed and uttered, “L-Let’s not rush to conclusions here. It’d be dangerous to assume that Ituha is Cuchulainn’s child…”

“It’s actually possible,” Billy said. “They say that the princess went missing almost a week ago.”

If a dark-skinned Native American could go pale, the Apache warrior most certainly did right now. Rama remained calm and said, “Geronimo’s right. Until we get some evidence or confirmation from someone, we shouldn’t force our assumptions onto her. Let her try to remember on her own.”

“I agree, but damned if I don’t say that this is getting downright scary,” Robin complained. “If she really is this Celtic Princess and Cuchulainn finds out she’s with us, he’ll hunt us down without remorse. I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of having to fight him on his terms. If I’m going to fight him, it’ll be when he’s caught in as many of my traps as possible.”

“Hmph. Such cowardice,” Nightingale scoffed dismissively.

“Say what you want. I look out for Number One first, no questions asked.”

“Well, that’s fine. Valuing your life is important as well, so long as you do not neglect to tend to others in their time of need. In that case, while I wholly cannot agree with your logic concerning Ituha’s amnesia, keeping quiet about the Celtic Princess certainly is the safest bet if we intend to safeguard her from Cuchulainn. I would prefer for her to focus on recovery while there isn’t a war going on.”

“Oh my,” Geronimo smiled. “You actually _can_ be reasonable for once.”

“Only because of the precarious situation we’re in. Otherwise, I would have prescribed some intense therapy for her already.”

The others didn’t want to imagine what Nightingale meant. After an uneasy silence, Billy asked Robin, “So what’s the other ‘interesting thing’ you learned?”

“It’s kind of weird, but remember that huge tornado that hit Ohio recently? Afterwards, there have been reports of Celtic scouts being brutally murdered by some unknown force. Not just Celts either; Edison’s mechanized infantry have been reduced to scrap metal as well.”

“An ‘unknown force’?”

“The Celts have been calling this calamity ‘Fia-Leanbh’ and are trying to hunt it down on top of fighting the war. I don’t know a lick of Irish, so I have no idea what it means.”

Behind him, a small voice moaned, “Wild Child…”

“Hm?” Robin looked over at Ituha, who had just woken up when she heard him talking about the mysterious catastrophe.

“Fia-Leanbh means Wild Child. I’m sure of it,” she murmured while rubbing her eyes and yawning.

Nightingale wondered, “What in the world does that mean?”

Rama suggested, “Judging from the amount of casualties both sides have been sustaining, this Fia-Leanbh character could be a Servant that neither faction has been able to recruit into their forces.”

“That makes sense. If we were to obtain this Servant’s help, a proper assault is entirely possible.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Robin said. “Apparently both forces have been trying to confront this unknown disaster, only for everyone to be wiped out regardless of their allegiance. If I had to guess, that creature must be a Berserker that has gone on a true rampage.”

“Then it is all the more fitting that we meet this out-of-control Servant! If their mind is poisoned, then I must bring an antidote for them immediately!”

“I think you’re the one in need of an antidote, lady,” Billy grumbled.

Geronimo said, “Let’s leave that matter for another time. First, we should go meet those two Servants that Robin mentioned and get their cooperation.”

“Uuh…” the bowman shuddered. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, ‘kay?”

* * *

In the White House, Medb sat upon her throne and listened to one of her vassals give their status report on the war’s progress.

“You’re telling me that this Fia-Leanbh thing _still_ hasn’t been apprehended?” she yelled angrily. “It’s only one insignificant creature! How much trouble could it possibly cause for you imbeciles!?”

“A lot more than we anticipated, Your Highness. Fortunately, the many losses we incurred have allowed us to study this beast’s attack patterns further, and we’re mobilizing our strongest men to eliminate it.”

“Oh, the inanity of it all. First Connie disappears, then that typhoon causes us setbacks, and now we have some unknown monster on the loose. If it wasn’t for the Holy Grail granting me its bounty, our situation would have been a real nightmare. If only Cu was here, he would go take care of that creature in a heartbeat, but he’s busy searching for Connie.”

“A-Actually, madam…”

The door to the audience chamber creaked open, and in stumbled a bloodied and severely wounded Cuchulainn. He had heard the conversation and muttered, “Looks like things aren’t going to be that simple, Medb.”

 ** _“CU!?”_** she screamed and ran up to her beloved, corrupted king. “What in the Devil’s name happened to you!? Why are you like this!?”

“I found Fia-Leanbh and fought her.”

“… Her? You mean it’s a girl?”

“Yeah. That mysterious calamity which has been ruining both sides’ forces is a young female Berserker that has the mind of a violent animal.”

“Oh my… Surely that monster’s ferocity couldn’t match yours, could it?”

“It’s about even.”

“How terrifying. If only there was some way we could recruit Fia into our ranks, we’d be unstoppable.”

“That’s impossible,” Cuchulainn snapped. “She’s completely mad. On top of that, she doesn’t even understand human language. Communicating with her will just be a waste of time. That’s why I tried to destroy her, but her powers caught me off guard.”

Medb sighed sullenly. “If you were a low-level grunt, I would have beat you to death for your failure. But to think that _you_ were the one who failed, my liege… My heart is torn between punishment and forgiveness. Well, make no mistake – I’ll never forgive that hideous predator for what she did to you! The moment I have her in my clutches, she will suffer a terrible death the likes of which no one has ever endured before! Then I’ll revive her with the Holy Grail and kill her again and again and again until my maidenly heart is satisfied!”

The Mad King didn’t say anything about Scathach’s appearance and his assumption about who Fia-Leanbh really was. He figured that Medb would be upset enough without hearing the whole truth, and the last thing he wanted to deal with was her incessant ranting. As he was about to go to bed, they heard the door open again, and another fellow walked through.

“You’re the worst woman alive, Medb,” he remarked with a friendly smile that didn’t match his harsh words. “It’s rather conflicting that you have such a terrible personality to go with that lovely body of yours.”

“It’s you,” Cuchulainn grumbled.

This man was known as Fergus mac Róich, who had been summoned as a Saber. He had very short purple hair done in a crew cut, and he always kept his eyes closed. He wore simple warrior’s attire, and left his chest bare to show everyone the three large gashes running diagonally across his biceps. He wielded a large drill-like sword over his shoulder – the legendary piercing blade Caladbolg, or the Spiral Rainbow Sword, which was capable of rending mountains asunder with such brilliant light that it would refract into multiple colors.

“It’s been a while, Setanta,” Fergus greeted his foster son. “I see the war hasn’t been treating you well.”

“Spare me your pity. And don’t call me that name either. The child you remember as Setanta is dead.”

“More like fallen into darkness.”

“…”

“So, were you the one who called me?”

“No, it was I,” Medb said. “I’ve been hearing some disturbing reports of stray Servants who have been banding together in rebellion against us. I worry that if their forces grow big enough, they could amass enough power to rival us.”

“Interesting. So it’s just a simple matter of picking them off one by one before they can meet.”

“Precisely. Could you do that for me, Fergus? If you do, I’ll reward you with a night that you can keep me company in my bed.”

Fergus grinned with satisfaction. “Sounds promising. But I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer. Just the prospect of hunting down Servants who are audacious enough to rebel against you will be reward enough for me. Call it staving off boredom, if you will. Just like with Setanta, I’ll let my animal instincts run wild. Wouldn’t you agree, young man?”

“Hmph,” Cuchulainn grunted. “I don’t care about minor skirmishes. My duty is to destroy everyone so that Connla will inherit this land.”

“How charming. Despite having become such a bastard, her future is still imperative above all else to you. Of course, it won’t do much good if the little lady is not around to inherit anything. I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for her during my hunt. The bigger issue is, what should I do if she actually resists me?”

“Then kill her. Torture anyone else all you want, but if you’re to kill her, then make it as swift and painless as possible. I’m tired of watching her suffer while I get all the glory.”

“Got it. Then I will be off.”


	7. Colorful Cast of Servants

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 7: Colorful Cast of Servants**

“Haah…” Robin sighed for the umpteenth time. While guiding the group of Servants to the next town, he appeared dejected during the whole trip.

“Is something the matter, Mr. Robin?” Ituha asked.

“Hey, you don’t need to address me so formally. I feel like an old man when you call me that.”

“I’m sorry. Then, Robin, are you feeling all right?”

“I wish I was, but this just sucks, having to travel to America’s remote regions just to meet those two loudmouths.”

“Why? Did you know them when you were alive?”

“No way. It’s just… they’re way more troublesome than they’re worth…”

Billy grinned, “You mean like an ex-girlfriend?”

“Hey. Don’t go pulling such nonsense out of that gutter-brained imagination of yours.”

“He he. I figured that since you’re a real heartbreaker, you must have played some wily tricks on them in the past. Right, you guys?”

Geronimo muttered, “I don’t really care about such stuff.”

“I only have thoughts for my wife Sita,” Rama said.

“I am not familiar with this concept of a ‘girlfriend’,” Nightingale said. “Is that some kind of new antibiotic?”

Billy groaned in frustration, “Gaah, does _anyone_ have a sense of humor around here!?”

“I get what you’re talking about,” Ituha replied. “It’s just that I’m too young to think about such things.”

“Aw man… Now I’m starting to feel as bummed as Green here.”

“If you’re done being an idiot,” Robin said sharply, “we’re almost there.”

The Servants reached the settlement, and Geronimo pointed toward it while exclaiming, “Look! More Celts are attacking!”

“Hm?” Billy wondered. “Look at them. Aren’t they a little weaker than usual?”

“Now that you mention it…”

The soldiers, who would normally be fervent about fighting and causing havoc, appeared strangely woozy and out of sorts.

“Well, that’s good for us. Let’s get some practice in!” Billy grinned and tumbled across the dirt before shooting at the unprepared warriors.

“This looks easy enough,” Ituha said. “Ms. Nightingale, how about you hang back and take care of Lord Rama this time? We can handle things just fine.”

“I suppose spending my energy on such small fry would be a waste,” the nurse said, laying the swordsman down and treating his cursed wound once again. “Make sure you sanitize every last one of them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ituha and Robin joined Billy in shooting down the soldiers, who were not as responsive to the assault as the previous groups of enemies were. They tried to charge at the three Archers, but it didn’t take much effort for them to get out of the way and continue pummeling them with various projectiles. Geronimo struck down any assailants that tried to get close to Nightingale. The whole thing didn’t even last five minutes before Billy shot the last man dead.

“Perfect!” he exclaimed. “But what was their deal anyway? Not only did they look totally wiped out, but the town appears to be perfectly fine.”

“Could it be?” Robin moaned to himself. “No, that’s not possible… But then again…”

“What’s wrong?” Ituha asked. “Are you hiding something from us?”

“Well…”

“Wait a second,” Geronimo stopped them. “Did you hear something?”

“Yeah, I did,” Billy said, then immediately frowned. “What in tarnation is that noise? It’s like someone’s taking all of the beautiful sounds in the world and blending them together into a shambled mess that makes the ears bleed.”

Robin sighed. “I knew it. Lancer’s still going at it.”

“Going at what?”

“You’ll see when we meet her.”

* * *

_“My heart is pricklii~iing! Romance in a box! A little girl’s Iron Maiden! You’re so cute, I’ll lock you up! Shower you with bloody kisses and skewer you like kebabs! Don’t fool around! Don’t fall in love! ‘Cause I’m always by your side, okay!”_

The source of the horrible singing and tasteless lyrics was a girl around 14 years old frolicking about in the middle of the completely deserted town. Robin might have looked out of place in this world, but the girl’s appearance left any and all desires of conformity to be had. She wore a gaudy idol’s getup consisting of a pink top hat decorated with fake forest animals, a pink dress with flowers lining the hem, and an exorbitant number of frills lining her costume. The colors matched her deep pink hair and blue eyes at least, but certainly not the drab desert setting they were in.

None of the Servants had the courage to approach her.

“Um…” Ituha whispered. “So who exactly is she?”

“That’s Elizabeth Bathory, the Blood Countess from Hungary. Well in this form, she hasn’t quite become the infamous serial killer yet, but that does nothing to quell just how awful of a human being she is,” Robin explained.

“She might be… lacking in vocal talent, but we need her abilities as a Servant,” Geronimo said, appearing as weary as Robin now. “I just don’t feel up to negotiating with someone like that…”

Nightingale objected, “I am not exposing my patient to such vulgar auditory disruptions. Repairing his heart is one thing, but if I have to heal any ruptured eardrums, I’ll pull out that dragon’s vocal chords personally.”

Billy looked at Ituha and asked, “Do you think you could try talking to her? She might be willing to listen to someone around her age.”

“I’ll try,” she said, then timidly approached Elizabeth as she was busy talking to herself proudly.

“Hmm, I should end that ‘okay’ with a livelier note. Then I’ll do a fancy twirl and slap my tail at the audience. Ah, it feels so good to let loose my overflowing talent! The more I practice, the more I get better at this! I’m almost afraid of my own perfection, as if I were a god of music in the flesh!”

“Um…”

“He he he! Just you wait, Saber! The next time we meet, I’ll be a completely different idol! Your Golden Theater will have nothing on my Dragon’s Stage!”

“Excuse me?”

“What!?” Elizabeth screeched, finally noticing Ituha standing near her. “Who has the nerve to interrupt an idol during their practice sessions!?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you,” the child murmured.

“Oh? You look like a new face around here, you little velvet puppy. Since you apologized so nicely, I’ll forgive you if you attend one of my concerts. So, what can I do for you?”

“Actually, my friends and I need to discuss something with you.”

“Hm? Well I’ll be! You brought the green mouse?”

“Hey, don’t remember people by their colors!” Robin objected. “Still singing away, I see.”

“Of course! Don’t you know? I’m pioneering the entertainment hell where the pigs of desire spend their money to gather for one reason only – to hear the performance of a true, genuine mistress of slaughter! And the venue for this once-in-a-lifetime event is none other than-“

Elizabeth struck a fabulous pose.

“Broadway! Oh, the glory! The sparkling heaven of artistic expression! Yeah, maybe it’s some dumpy town in the boonies right now, but it is I who christened this hub Broadway for future generations to come! Tee hee, I can see it now – the squealing pigs horde themselves into a crowd and flock all around me, begging for autographs and photos for nights and days on end! I’ll have everything I’ve ever dreamed of – a cinema, a stage, a theater, all in my name! All that’s missing is a flawlessly sculpted statue of myself that’ll dominate even Lady Liberty herself! The Goddess of Fresh Blood shall raise her voice in song with a tomato in one hand and symbolize the be-all end-all world of cutthroat idols!”

None of the Servants had the courage to stop her.

“Healing damaged vocal chords is one thing,” Nightingale said, “but curing a delusion as grand as that is beyond my expertise.”

“Finer words have not been spoken,” Billy remarked.

Once again, it fell upon Ituha to be the voice of reason, and she said to Elizabeth, “I don’t mean to interrupt your plans for the future, but if the war continues the way it is, the only audience you’ll be having is a bunch of murderous Celtic soldiers. They do not hear the beautiful voice of a diva, but the throes of a hungry dragon.”

“… Huh?”

“Don’t you get it? The reason those soldiers we fought were so weak was because your singing barraged them like cannon fire!”

“Well I’ll be damned! I thought for sure they were die-hard fans who wanted to get near me, so I got real fired up and let loose my best song. Is it true that those barbarians are too stupid to appreciate the beauty of my art?”

“I think that goes without saying. They’re nothing but warmongers who seek the complete and utter annihilation of this country. If they’re victorious, you can kiss your dreams of Broadway good-bye!”

“Heek! What a travesty! What have I been doing this whole time!? I should be out on tour promoting my concert, not standing around and admiring myself!”

“That’s right,” Ituha said, then bowed. “That’s why we’re here – we’re looking for Servants to lend us their power in rebelling against the Celts. Could you lend us your aid, Ms. Bathory?”

“So that’s how it is, huh?” Elizabeth smiled. “I can hardly say no when a passionate fan asks me so sincerely. What’s your name, Puppy?”

“Ituha. I’m an Archer.”

“Great! Oh, you can drop the ‘Ms. Bathory’ stuff. A real idol needs a charming nickname to brand themselves with. You can call me Eli-Eli for short, okay?”

“Sure…”

“Then in that case, you’ve passed! I, Dragon Idol Goddess Eli-Eli, shall dedicate her microphone to the subjugation of all worthless pigs who cannot appreciate true art!”

“Thank you very much!”

Billy whispered to Robin, “So that’s how you’re supposed to talk to someone like that.”

“I suspected she loved empty flattery, but I couldn’t bring myself to discard my pride like that.”

“So that’s our Lancer recruited,” Geronimo said. “Where did you say the Saber was, Robin?”

“She’s in the next town after we pass through the eastern forest.”

“Oh, you’re going to recruit Saber next?” Elizabeth asked. “Interesting. I’ve been so busy trying to outshine her that the possibility of a duet completely slipped my mind.”

Ituha asked, “Is she… a lot like you?”

“Scarily so, except she doesn’t have the raw talent that I have!”

The child Archer looked back at the others and nervously mumbled, “Then I guess it’s up to me to negotiate again, right?”

“Sorry about this,” Robin sighed. “I promise I’ll get you something nice for your trouble.”

“Don’t mind me. It’s the least I can do to help, since I’m not a good fighter.”

* * *

“Hm-hm-hm hmm…”

The Saber in question hummed a merry tune to herself while walking about and inspecting the empty town. If Elizabeth’s gaudiness was out of place in this Wild West era, then this Servant’s garb was equally as elegant yet unfitting for the terrain. Her True Name was Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, or Nero for short, who was once the Emperor of Rome from 50 AD to 60 AD. In this world however, she had been summoned in her Bride incarnation, which wasn’t much different functionally from her regular Saber class except she wore a beautiful white gown suitable for a royal wedding instead of her red emperor’s clothes. Even though her attire was flowy and graceful, she didn’t leave much to the imagination with her tight leotard barely covering her bursting cleavage and wide hips.

“Umu! I have the foundation in place,” Nero congratulated herself. “Such a shame that this town is only suitable for a Western film, but I shall not worry. My supreme acting skills will win me every award for sure! I’ll be covering all roles from director to scriptwriter to leading actress, but the one thing I’m sorely missing is a cameraman. Should I try summoning someone? But I fear of calling upon someone who has greater fame than myself…”

“Hoh hoh. Hollywood, is it?” a man’s voice interrupted her self-interested musings. “One can never underestimate the imagination of this world’s more eccentric Servants.”

“Who are you? If you are not here for an audition, then be off with you. Or are you a professional cameraman?”

“Pardon my intrusion. My name is Fergus mac Róich, a Saber just like yourself. I was a member of the Red Branch Knights back when I was alive. Under normal circumstances, I would have gladly passed myself off as a cameraman just so I could hit on you, fair maiden, but I’m afraid my situation is rather complicated.”

“Interesting. Do tell.”

“Of course. All I’m here to do is to kill you,” Fergus declared as calmly and coolly as always. “Just as you are an indulgent one who dreams of the future, I too am a selfish beast who only seeks to spill your blood.”

Nero didn’t appear threatened at all. “Whatever your reasons may be, the fact remains that you’re quite the fool if you think you can kill me, the great Nero Claudius, like I’m some low-level Servant.”

“Well, well! The tyrant of ancient Rome! To think I’d have the honor of striking down someone as famous as yourself! No wonder your radiance is different compared to those rabble.”

“Rabble?”

“Indeed. On my way here, I murdered three other stray Servants. You’ll have the pleasure of being the fourth bloodstain on my Caladbolg.”

“That’s very impressive of you,” Nero smiled. “But make no mistake, Sir Fergus – the fourth victim will be _you_.”

“Fascinating,” he murmured as he watched Nero brandish her long sword Aestus Estus. “Looks like you’re not just some spoiled emperor ordering others around from the safety of their throne. How delightful. In that case, I shall face you as one of Queen Medb’s most trusted knights.”

“He he. I really pity you. You must be born under an unlucky star.”

“Why is that?”

Nero paused, then suddenly exclaimed, “Go, Faceless King!”

Out of nowhere, an arrow flew through the air and shot straight for Fergus. No one was seemingly around to fire the shot, so he was caught unawares while Nero hopped back to safety.

“Hmph!” Fergus blocked the incoming strike with his drill-like sword. “An invisible Servant? Show yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin’s bored grumble spoke from out of nowhere. “Since my cover’s busted, I’ll just come on out now.”

He dispelled his No Face May King and revealed himself to be standing next to Nero. He said to her, “Long time no see. I’m surprised you knew that I was here.”

“Don’t underestimate my sixth sense for finding hidden spectators,” she smirked.

“Yep. Just what I’d expected from a tyrannical emperor who seeks attention. Oh, by the way, I brought reinforcements. I bet your new muscle-headed friend there won’t be able to fight against all of us on equal terms.”

The rest of the Resistance’s hodge-podge collection of Servants caught up to him. As Fergus was about to retort against Robin’s insult, he took a glimpse at the newcomers and spotted Ituha in the back.

“Hm!?” he gasped. “Well I’ll be damned…”

“What’s with that reaction?” Nero demanded.

Elizabeth giggled and exclaimed, “Now there’s a man of good taste. Even if he’s a bit of a crusty old fart for my liking, I’m glad he preferred my exquisiteness over yours, Saber!”

“Quit your screeching, lizard,” Fergus frowned, then pointed Caladbolg at Ituha. “You there, child!”

She tensed up and widened her eyes. “M-Me!?”

“Where have you been this whole time!? Fionn, Diarmuid, and even Setanta have been scouting this whole nation for you! First you disappear without any warning, and now you’re in league with this lot!? If the king and queen were to hear of this, they would be devastated!”

“What? I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Nightingale jumped in front of the group and shouted, “Do you know who this child is!?”

“Huh? Whatever do you mean, madam?” Fergus wondered. “Hasn’t she told you already?”

“She can’t. She has complete retrograde amnesia. Aside from curing the illness plaguing this land, I intend to recover her memories so she may go back to living as a normal girl.”

“Is that so? That’s not good. But I think I’m getting the idea now,” the swordsman smiled as he came to a strange realization. “So you lot took advantage of the girl’s lack of memory to recruit her. If I kill you all and take her back, perhaps all may be forgiven.”

“What a vulgar accusation you make,” Geronimo seethed.

“I’m not accusing anyone of anything. In your desperate situation, it would be rational to turn anyone to your side, even if it means utilizing cheap tactics and dirty lies.”

“Wait!” Ituha objected. “That’s not what happened at all, sir!”

“No?” Fergus pondered, appalled that his theory was shot down so quickly. “Then why are you with them?”

“I wanted to join with them! They’re fighting so hard to protect innocent people from both you Celts and Mr. Edison’s forces! Even if I don’t know who I am, I still want to help in any way I can! I feel like it’s my duty as a Servant!”

“Umu!” Nero mumbled in acknowledgement. “Your conviction shines as bright as a stage light, little starlet! Although your talent may be raw and unrefined, with enough practice and determination, you can definitely forge a path of success that you can be proud of! As your senior in the world of art and music, I shall lend my blade and smite those who stand in our way to glory!”

“Truly now…” Fergus sighed in frustration. “Looks like Setanta was right – you really are too sweet for your own good. Perhaps you were never meant to fit the role that he and Medb aspired for you.”

Ituha clasped her hands over her breast and asked him, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I apologize for going against you, sir. Even so, could you at least tell me who I am and how I’m related to all of you?”

“I’m afraid there’s no point in that,” he raised his sword for battle. “Since you’ve made your stance clear, I am forced to slay you immediately. Divulging your True Name to you will be wasteful.”

Robin remarked, “You sure talk big, trying to take on seven Servants all by yourself.”

“You’ve got a point there. Then how about I even the playing field a little?”

Fergus snapped his fingers. The team found themselves suddenly surrounded by around 100 Celtic soldiers who had been stealthily hiding in various locations.

“One on seven isn’t fair, but a hundred versus seven should be more reasonable,” the swordsman gloated.

“Tch. Me and my big mouth,” Robin cursed himself.

“Now then,” Fergus said to Ituha, “your father ordered me that if you were to resist capture, I would have to kill you. However, he told me to make your death an especially painless one. Do yourself a favor and allow me to run you through as quickly as possible so you don’t have to feel a thing.”

“My father?” she whimpered. “Who is that?”

Nero and Elizabeth jumped in front of her, and the former exclaimed, “You don’t need to know! A parent who seeks the death of their child is the absolute worst kind of human being in the world! Believe me, I know that kind of pain all too well!”

Elizabeth shouted, “Normally I’m not up for sharing the stage with my greatest rival, but it’s our duty to keep the fans safe from unruly hooligans while they’re enjoying the show! Saber! Just this once, let’s have a joint recital and banish filthy pigs like him from ever attending our concerts again!”

“Umu! You’re on, Lancer!”

Fergus muttered, “Such vigor coming from two charming ladies… It is a shame that I must be your opponent, but let us tarry no more! En garde!”

“TAH!” Nero cried out and rushed in to slam her sword against his. She had the advantage of wielding a sword that could slash and stab with graceful precision, whereas his sword was shaped like a drill and only useful for stabbing maneuvers. Even so, he could still use it as a bulky shield to block all of her lithe strikes and thrust at her when he found the opportunity. They danced, whirled and pirouetted around each other as if they were in a deadly waltz.

Nero slammed Aestus Estus against the large needle-like blade. Her sword scraped along Caladbolg, and Fergus watched the razor-sharp blade slowly creep up towards his eyes. He used all of his strength to slash aside, throwing arms about and exposing her midsection. He tried to stab through her abdomen, but Elizabeth cried out while jumping and slammed her microphone/spear-like weapon Sarkany Csont Landzsa atop Caladbolg, smashing it into the ground and cracking the earth with extreme force.

Now it was Elizabeth’s turn to duel with Fergus. She whipped and whirled her spear about in a frenzy, and he was hard-pressed to block so many potent blows coming from such a small-statured teenager. She stabbed at his face multiple times, but he reacted with lightning-fast dodges before ducking low and punching deep into her gut. She reeled back, unable to continue for a short while. Nero hopped back into the fray and delivered a swift kick to his cheek, knocking him away from Elizabeth. She helped her friend/rival dash away so the Lancer could recover.

Fergus summoned a fraction of Caladbolg’s power and fired a multicolored ray of light at the pair’s backs. They jumped in opposite directions to avoid the explosive blast, tumbling along the ground before doubling back and ganging upon him. Nero got into another round of sword strikes with him, but she served as a distraction for Elizabeth to swing her spear at the back of his knees and send him flying onto his back. Nero stabbed her blade in the ground where Fergus’ head was, but he rolled aside in time and vaulted back to his feet. She pursued him while dragging her sword through the ground, as if it was holding back her incredible might.

All this while, Ituha remained far away from the two-on-one skirmish, unable to sling her stones out of fear of striking Nero or Elizabeth by accident. She didn’t know what else to do to contribute, so she just stood there anxiously and watched.

The normally amicable Fergus was now starting to get angry. Just as he warned Nero, he allowed his animal instincts to control him, and he raised Caladbolg in a downward stabbing position while his two foes were rushing at him.

“Feast your eyes on a true rainbow! **_Caladbolg!_** ” he unleashed his Noble Phantasm’s True Name and stabbed the drill-sword straight into the ground. The girls stopped running when they saw the earth around them crack and fissure, releasing streaks of vibrant colors. The piercing light had traveled from the sword into the ground and began to rend it asunder with destructive force. Both of them were overcome by the chromatic spectacle and thrown high into the air along with numerous large rocks that had been blasted out of the earth. Not only did the light scorch their skin, the rocks also pelted them with vicious abandon, leaving them to collapse on their backs.

“Feh,” he smirked. He wanted to make a quick quip, but he figured he would save the gloating for when he stood over their corpses. He swung Caladbolg back into his grip and prepared to stab the wounded Servants. Ituha gasped, reaching for her weapon and trying to intercept him with some shots, but she wouldn’t be quick enough. Then the strange Celtic magic circles appeared over her wrists just like during the battle with Karna, and flames tickled over her palms.

_It’s happening again! What in the world is going on!?_

She couldn’t spare any thoughts about what this mysterious power was and shouted the familiar words:

**_“Coinneal Léimneach!”_ **

“What!?” Fergus yelped, but noticed the fiery onslaught too late and was overwhelmed by the wave of unrelenting flames streaming from Ituha’s hands. When the burning tsunami died down, he was revealed to be completely immolated, thrashing about in a desperate attempt to put out the fire. His clothes burned and his skin was seared into charcoal grit surrounding his exposed musculature.

“She got him!” Elizabeth shouted happily.

Ituha wasn’t so pleased with what she did. Her entire body trembled with fear from seeing Fergus’ destroyed body, and she fell to her knees. Nero ran to her side, held her up and exclaimed, “Hang in there!”

“Ah… Ah…!”

Something triggered in the deepest corner of her subconscious. Although there wasn’t a clear image to go with this terror, she seemed to be physically reacting to his ghoulish appearance, as if she had seen it before and the ‘memory’ was etched into her body rather than her mind.

“Unnngh…” Fergus groaned, devoid of any strength left to survive, never mind fight. He fell right onto his back, spreading a layer of dusty dirt around him. The girls observed him for a long moment, suspecting that this could be a trap he would spring on them if they lowered their guard. During this tense interlude, the other Servants ran toward them to see if everything was okay. Despite the incredible number of low-level grunts that Fergus sicced on them, they managed to overcome the horde while the three girls were busy with him.

Geronimo heard Ituha’s quiet sobbing and kneeled next to her, asking, “Are you all right?”

“Uuh… Uuh… Ahh…!”

“Calm yourself. The battle is over.”

“But… But I-!”

They heard Fergus groan, “Ungh… This is the way of war. I lost, so I must die. There’s no need to cry over my insignificant fate.”

“Sir…”

He maintained his placid smile despite suffering through his grisly injuries. “This is all my fault, young lady. I’m the one who exposed you to such a bitter experience. You don’t need to blame yourself for killing me. In fact, I’m quite proud of you for following your heart. You really are his child – as stubborn and resolute as he is. Perhaps you’ll be the one who will save him from the darkness he has succumbed to.”

“…”

He looked up at Rama and murmured, “Oh? I remember that face… Yes, a woman I met before shared very similar features to you.”

“What!?” the swordsman gasped. “Do you know of my wife!? Do you know where Sita is being kept!?”

“So she’s your wife, huh? No wonder she rejected my advances so obstinately.”

_“You scum-!”_

“No need to be upset. Taking hostages was the one thing I found repugnant about Medb’s strategy. You must return west, to the island of Alcatraz. I believe your bride is being kept there.”

“Alcatraz!? The famous prison island said to be impossible to escape from?”

“It’s your decision whether to believe me or not.”

“Hm…” Rama looked pensive, then said, “So long as you kept your hands off Sita, then I will trust you.”

“Good. And one more thing… Ituha, was it?”

“Sir?” the little girl kneeled next to the dying Servant.

“As a reward for following your conviction and defeating me, I will tell you your True Name. Perhaps it may help in your recovery.”

“Uh…?”

“Listen well. Your true identity is the Child of Cuchulainn, and the Celtic Princess destined to be his successor in this world. You’re the young adventurer who died at his hands through a tragic mistake in your lifetime, and originally summoned to this land as a Lancer-class Servant. Your True Name is… Connla.”

Ituha fell silent for a long moment, letting the sound of her birth name sink in. Fergus smiled, satisfied that he got to pass the truth on to her. He patted her head and murmured, “Could you do me a small favor?”

“What is it?”

“Call me ‘Uncle Fergus’, like you used to.”

“Um… Uncle… Fergus…?”

“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Well then, time for me to go. I’ll be rooting for you from the Throne.”

His body shone brilliantly, then faded out of existence. No sign of him remained except for the scars he etched in the land with Caladbolg.


	8. Separation and Reunion

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 8: Separation and Reunion**

Ituha remained slumped over the same spot where she watched Fergus die, lost in a myriad of rampant thoughts. Nightingale said to her, “What’s with the sullen reaction? You should be glad to know who you are at last.”

“But,” the child whispered despondently. “If he was telling the truth… then that means I’m the daughter of… the man who is trying to destroy this world…”

“Do you think he was lying?”

“… No. I think he was being honest. I just have a hard time believing it…”

“Good grief,” Robin huffed. “It’s just as we suspected – you really are the missing Celtic Princess.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “You knew who I was?”

“Not quite. Call it a hunch if you will. We kept quiet because we didn’t want you to be misled with our assumptions.”

“I see.”

“So you’re the one Cuchulainn was talking about during our battle,” Rama murmured. “I never would’ve imagined that he had a daughter… No, now that I think about it, there was a short tale where Cuchulainn fought and killed his only son.”

Billy said, “It could be that history misremembered Connla as a ‘son’ when she was actually a ‘daughter’.”

“That’s true. No wonder the idea never crossed my mind.”

Ituha became quiet for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. Geronimo asked her, “Now that you know your True Name, are you beginning to remember anything?”

To everyone’s dismay, she shook her head and replied, “Just because Mr. Fergus told me who I was doesn’t mean I’ll automatically regain my memories. It feels like I’m an empty canvas – I have plenty of ‘knowledge’, but I was summoned here with absolutely no ‘memories’.”

“Well at least it’s a start. With your identity known, we can continue on that path until something comes to you. Would you like to be addressed by your birth name from now on?”

“No. I don’t feel like I’m back to my original self yet.”

“All right. Take it easy and pace yourself. There’s no need to force yourself to remember everything.”

“Okay,” Ituha said, feeling a lot better and getting back to her feet. “I think there’s something more important we need to talk about anyway. Mr. Fergus told Lord Rama where his wife is being imprisoned. That’s what we needed to know to help with his treatment.”

“Right,” Nightingale said. “The patient is starting to reach his limit of endurance.”

“Ugh…” Rama groaned. “I can’t give up. I’ll hold on as long as possible… until I see her again…”

“Not just ‘until you see her’. You’re going to live and tell her everything that you want to say to her. That is my duty as your caretaker – to make sure your long-awaited reunion becomes a reality.”

“Of course… Hearing that is getting me fired up… Argh!”

Geronimo said, “Let’s take this time to rest in town, then we’ll discuss our next strategy this evening.”

“I’ll leave the war planning to you guys. I’m gonna go sing,” Elizabeth said. “Just because we’re in the middle of a fierce battle doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to get lazy with my practice!”

Nero smiled. “Umu! Then let’s compare and see who is the better singer in this very moment!”

“You’re on!”

* * *

Several hours later, night cloaked the abandoned village in darkness. The tiny lights of countless stars pierced through the blackness, and Ituha gazed upon them silently. She couldn’t stop thinking about Fergus’ revelation and how she was so interconnected with Cuchulainn, the worst enemy of the nation.

_Everyone’s being so nice to me, even though I’m a Celt. But… I’m sort of scared. Cuchulainn has done so many horrible things to the people of this land. He’s needlessly killed thousands, perverted America’s history, and even nearly killed Lord Rama. How can I possibly be the child of someone so ruthless? Does everyone think I’m the same way as him? Are they going to be wary of me from now on? Or perhaps is it I who should keep my distance for their safety?_

She bunched her knees against her chest and sighed.

_If I regain my memories, am I going to behave like Cuchulainn? Is this side of me going to disappear and be replaced with something unrecognizable to everyone?_

Ituha suddenly jolted when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She looked up to see Nero standing over her. The emperor smiled and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Hm… Kind of confused.”

“That’s not good. You’re a child – you should be full of joy and vigor, not sitting here looking depressed.”

“I know, but there’s been so much going on that I haven’t had time to reflect on it.”

“Geronimo told me everything about your amnesia. You’re quite brave, taking on the enemy forces without asking for much in return. Then in my infinite grace, I shall brush your hair so that your glittering appearance belies the courage brimming within you!”

“No, that’s not-“

Nero sat down and used her personal hair brush to comb through Ituha’s long lavender locks. She straightened out some tangles and braided a couple of side locks, tying them together at the back so they resembled violet embroidery crowning the girl’s head.

“There we go! Nothing but the most splendid of hair styling!” the emperor remarked.

“Um… thank you very much…”

“Umu! There’s nothing to worry about! Just relax and leave everything to me!”

“Mm… It’s getting pretty late. I think Mr. Geronimo said the meeting will be soon.”

The two Servants headed into the center of town, where they found Billy maintaining a campfire in the middle of the dusty street. Nightingale had Rama lying on a collection of blankets while she was treating him, and the others sat around in circle formation around the gentle blaze. Ituha and Nero joined them, and they ate some food for a short while before getting down to business.

Geronimo began the strategy meeting by saying, “Let’s go over what we know, especially since Lancer and Saber need to get caught up with the situation. The Celtic armies have taken over the original 13 American colonies and some additional territory in the east. They are bent on massacring men, women and children alike, although some of their Servants allow the civilians to go. Regardless of their intentions however, if the Celts continue advancing like this, those people will die anyway. Meanwhile, Edison has been taking in those refugees and forcing them to work in factories to produce the mechanized infantry. You could say that thanks to the chaotic nature of the situation, smaller groups of Servants such as us are more able to move around freely.

“Now, the most important part is that the Celts are using Washington as their base. After all, to further humiliate the defeated, an invader would want to lower morale by occupying the capital city. That’s why Edison had to establish Denver as his stronghold, and he is accompanied by the occult philosopher Helena Blavatsky, especially since they knew each other in life. They also have Karna on their side, though it’s a mystery as to why he would assist Edison. Those three and the infantry are compensating for the lack of Servants, which the Celts are able to boast about.

“Since we’ve established that Washington is the enemy base, the only question is how to proceed from here. Ituha, since you are familiar with how Celtic soldiers behave, I would like to hear your insight on any potential patterns they have and what we could exploit.”

“Hmm,” the child murmured dubiously. “Before I say anything about that, shouldn’t we address our own weakness first? I mean, look at who we are.”

“You’re got a point. Robin and I are lone wolves, Billy’s an outcast, Elizabeth’s an Anti-Hero, you’re a Celtic traitor… Our group truly does consist of some disorganized characters, a fact which the Celts may conversely try to take advantage of. We’re not exactly shining examples of heroism when the only tactic we can deploy is assassination, but it’s the best option we’ve got. We need to pick off any of their Servants first before going for the leaders.”

“Oh, similar to what that muscle-man was doing,” Nero said. “He told me that he had offed three other Servants before trying to murder me.”

“Right,” Geronimo agreed.

“Hold on now,” Elizabeth frowned. “You say you’re going to assassinate the Celtic Servants, but there’s more than one holed up in Washington, isn’t there? Do you even have any idea how many there are?”

“Not necessarily, dragon girl. Even if we had an Assassin in our group, not even Presence Concealment would be able to help them infiltrate the enemy stronghold. That’s why I wanted to ask Ituha if there were any general patterns we could use as a basis for slipping in.”

The young Archer nodded, then explained, “Celts are not known for employing strategy due to their belligerent nature. Also, if you think about the invasions we dealt with, they are very haphazard in their movements.”

“You mean they do as they please?” Robin asked.

“Yes. Like I said before, Celts follow an overall mission, but how they accomplish it is up to the individual. You could say that while they’re ferocious, they’re also extremely disorganized.”

“That’s the opposite of Edison’s philosophy – absolute uniformity and dedication to a higher goal at the cost of losing one’s individuality.”

“Yeah. In fact, I don’t even think the idea of protecting a single place would cross their minds if they’re given such freedom. I believe they’d be more interested in going off and fighting the war than defending their home and superiors.”

“Aah!” Geronimo gasped, as if he had an epiphany. “If you begin thinking like a Celt, then you’ll realize that they only see a fortress as a place to live. If it falls, they can always establish another one so long as a leader is around to tell them where to build it. But if there are no leaders to give such orders, the lower-level grunts will lose focus, giving Edison’s forces the chance to mop them up. Even so, at the end of the day, it’s all still a gamble. It’s impossible to defend the West, so an unexpected strike at the enemy’s heart is the only way to go.”

“I don’t like the prospects, but at least it’s a plan,” Billy said.

Robin smiled shakily. “I’ll take any chance, even if it’s only a 1% likelihood of success.”

“Sounds quite doable,” Nero said.

“Yep. The sooner we get this done, the better. I want to get back to organizing my show,” Elizabeth agreed.

Nightingale added, “If Washington is the source of the illness plaguing this land, then it must be excised immediately. However, my priority is the treatment of this patient.”

Rama moaned, “I wish I could help, but I’d only get in the way like this.”

Geronimo declared, “That is what I want to get at. I propose that we split into two groups – one will go to Alcatraz to find Rama’s wife, while the other will go east to assassinate the Celtic Servants. Nightingale will take the lead for the Alcatraz group, and I will do the same for the Washington group. We need to select the correct Servants for both tasks, since the assassination will be extremely dangerous.”

“Got it,” Nightingale said. “Naturally, I’ll be bringing Ituha with me. I am still responsible for her psychological treatment, plus I will not allow a child to go with you on such a sordid mission.”

“I was going to say the same thing myself,” the Apache warrior smiled lightly. “If I bring Robin and Billy with me, that will be enough Archers to provide support fire. The question is what Nero and Elizabeth want to do. The Alcatraz group only has Nightingale and Ituha, so they need a close-range fighter to balance them out.”

Nero piped in, “Then Elizabeth, you should go with them.”

“Huh? Why me?” the young Lancer asked. “I don’t have a problem wiping out the pigs who are interfering with my dreams.”

“He he. While your vigor is something to behold, you can’t exactly sing at your loudest during an assassination. Besides, there’s one fundamental difference between us, other than our talent as idols.”

“What would that be?”

“I’m Nero Claudius!”

“… Meaning?”

“As an emperor, your life is full of nothing but conspiracies! Poison or be poisoned, control or be controlled, execute or be executed, it’s all thoroughly unpleasant! That’s why I’m accustomed to assassinating _and_ being assassinated! Hah…  I feel heartbroken just saying that… Alas, the fact remains that I have more experience with such a bitter world than you do! Go on now, you all, applaud for me!”

“That’s not exactly something to brag about, little emperor,” Robin chided.

“Believe me, I wasn’t trying to pontificate. Anyway, my Imperial Privilege ability should give me temporary Assassin-like skills. Think of it as a secret live performance that will throw the curtain on our enemy’s blind rampage!”

“I get it now,” Elizabeth said. “Then that’s fine. I’ll go with the nurse and the little puppy to Alcatraz. You better come back from this, Nero! We still haven’t settled our score on whose talent as an idol’s is greater!”

“Umu! This assassination will be a show that America will never forget!”

“Very good,” Geronimo said. “Now that we have established our teams, we will depart early tomorrow morning.”

“Please be careful,” Ituha told him.

“Of course we will.”

“Before I forget,” Robin said and tossed the child a strange device. “I plucked a couple of these off of some scrapped mechs earlier. They’re communication devices that we can use to talk to each other from long distance. It’d be best if you didn’t try to contact us since we’ll need to be as silent as possible. On the other hand, we’ll give you a call and let you know our status.”

“Okay.”

“We need to be careful as well,” Rama said. “There’s the high possibility of a Servant keeping Sita inside Alcatraz.”

“Mm,” Ituha nodded. “Then we should get some rest before leaving.”

* * *

In south Georgia, Fia-Leanbh huddled herself within the entrance to a cavern obscured by a gentle waterfall. She slept soundly, lulled by the constantly pouring water, not looking much different than a small white wolf taking a nap. It had been a harrowing experience for her, first having to fight Cuchulainn before being forced to escape from Scathach. She only barely managed to evade the warrior woman due to her familiarity with the terrain plus remembering that she possessed some knowledge of Celtic Runecraft that allowed her to obscure her figure.

Thanks to those two encounters however, Fia was starting to run out of energy. She had been killing any Celtic scouting groups she came upon to feed on their organs for sustenance, but with two high-level Servants now aware of her presence, she needed to be both careful and resourceful. That was why she slept in such a remote place before thinking about going back out to do more hunting.

Fia experienced some nightmares of herself being imprisoned in a castle – not in the dungeons, but in a beautiful room decorated with flowers and gold trimming. The doors and windows were always locked, and the walls were see-through like glass so that faceless people passing by could ogle at the elegant prisoner like she was some kind of freak show performer. Numerous guards were stationed around the glass room, and plenty of indescribable monsters also kept a watchful eye to make sure she didn’t try to run away. She was being put on display for everyone to look at, with no one to rely on for comfort or companionship. She screamed and clawed at the glass over and over again, but no one responded to her desperate cries for freedom with sympathy. Rather, they all shared a sort of vapid mirth as they stared and giggled at the unfortunate prisoner.

The nightmare caused Fia to stir awake, leaving behind a sickening feeling of dread and loneliness. Although she couldn’t voice it coherently, she knew she was alone in this world and had to survive on her own. If she had any sentience, the isolation would have driven her crazy. Without the ability to think rationally, she could function like any other animal and focus on nothing but finding her next meal.

“…”

Fia emerged from behind the waterfall and inspected her surroundings. Leaves and grass swayed in the breeze. The only signs of life around were small animals like birds, squirrels and rodents. She yawned, then subconsciously thought about what to do next. She was concerned about finding more Celts to murder when there could be more powerful people like Cuchulainn and Scathach who could defeat her. Perhaps if she laid low and only hunted the local wildlife, any heed to her presence would fade away gradually. Then she could go back and pick off the soldiers more carefully this time, making sure not to draw too much attention to herself again.

Fia sniffed the air, using her heightened sense of smell to detect any animals nearby. She thought she smelled a grizzly bear nearby, so she prepared to go after it.

“Wait.”

The child Berserker immediately stopped. Landing near her was Scathach, who had concealed her presence this entire time without Fia noticing. The feral girl grit her teeth and got into battle position.

“I don’t intend to fight you,” Scathach said calmly. “Look, I’ve brought you some food.”

“…?”

The warrior woman showed her several demon boar carcasses nearby.

“I only want to talk to you. If I give you this food, will you listen to me?”

Fia wasn’t sure what to do. The scent of fresh meat made her stomach grumble, and she approached the dead beasts with curiosity. Her mouth watered from the delicious sight of red flesh. She ignored any pretext and began munching away, digging her face and teeth right into the bloody meat.

“Good girl,” Scathach murmured, stroking Fia’s back. “Nothing calms a raging beast like a succulent meal. Now, I want you to listen to me carefully. There’s someone very important I want you to meet. If you come with me, you won’t have to worry about being attacked by that scary man anymore.”

Fia looked up at her, seemingly perplexed by the woman’s promise. Normally she couldn’t understand human language, but Scathach was using a series of Runes that mimicked the Animal Communication skill that certain Servants possessed. Fia tilted her head, as if quietly asking, “Who is this person you want me to meet?”

“She’s a young girl just like you. No, it’s more accurate to say that she’s your missing half,” Scathach explained. “Once you see her, you’ll understand right away. I need you two to reunite if I am to resurrect my lost pupil and safeguard her from her insane father.”

Fia still didn’t understand what she was talking about. Scathach patted her head and said, “It’s fine if you can’t comprehend my words. All I want is for you to believe in me and follow me. I’ll make sure you’re properly fed along the way.”

“…”

The Berserker finished eating the last of the boar carcasses, then wiped her mouth clean of blood and stood before the Lancer. Scathach smiled, knowing that Fia was ready to accompany her.

“Good. Now, we must make haste,” she declared. “The war grows ever more intense with each passing day. We must rendezvous with my comrade, who is looking for your other half as we speak, and get you both to a safe place. Follow me, and do not stray from the path.”

With those instructions, the two Servants leapt into the forest and disappeared from the area.

* * *

Morning arrived, and the team of Servants divided into their assigned groups. Geronimo said, “We’ll be heading to Washington now.”

“Likewise, we will go to Alcatraz and find Rama’s wife,” Nightingale said.

“Our time together was short, but quite enjoyable.”

Ituha murmured, “You make it sound like we’ll never meet again, Mr. Geronimo.”

His features turned slightly grim. “I suppose I do sound like that. Don’t worry, we will see each other again.”

“Relax, it’ll be over before you know it,” Billy grinned. “Just sit tight and wait for the good news!”

“You better take care of our little princesses there, Nightingale,” Robin said to the nurse.

Elizabeth barked, “Hey! I’m the one who’s going to be taking care of the puppy, got it!?”

“Right, right. Well then, time to get to work.”

Nero said to Ituha, “Take care of Elizabeth for me, okay? I want to be able to see her again so we can settle our score about who number one is.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With their good-byes said, the two groups went their separate ways. Nightingale took the lead as she, Ituha and Elizabeth turned back west and retraced their steps through the towns they previously passed by. By the time they returned to the first town, Rama was showing visible signs of strain and his skin was turning deathly pale.

“Let’s take a short break so I can heal the patient back up,” Nightingale declared. “Though all things considered, he really is beginning to lose his endurance. The necrosis in his heart is advancing faster than I can treat it.”

“Ungh…” the swordsman gasped pitifully. “I already promised you, didn’t I? Until I see Sita again… I won’t let this kill me…”

“Your tenacity really is something else. An ordinary man would have been mentally destroyed already.”

“It’s my duty as the king of Kosala to see her again… Yet, she wound up being harmed for that reason…”

“What do you mean?” Ituha asked.

“Ugh… I suspected her of infidelity… and tested her twice…”

“Seriously?” Elizabeth muttered sourly. “What kind of faithful girl enjoys being treated like that?”

“That’s not it…” Rama protested. “It was my people… who suspected her. Even though we had that ceremony… it wasn’t enough to appease them… so I had no choice… but to exile her…”

“Whaa~aat!? What kind of bull-crap is _that_!?”

“So in the end, you suspected her,” Nightingale said with all the bluntness of a baseball bat being smacked on the cranium.

“That’s right! You’re terrible!”

“Please, you two,” Ituha implored. “Lord Rama isn’t feeling well.”

“No, they’re right,” he groaned, gasping through the excruciating pain. “I valued my own self-protection above my faith in her… When a king ages, their priorities change. In youth, kings are self-indulgent, but as they grow older, they must learn to discard those luxuries in order to keep their citizens happy. Whether it is family, money, power, or love, such things must be tossed aside in the name of dignity.”

“Then it is all the more imperative that you see your wife again,” Nightingale said. “With none of those hassles to hold you back in this world, this is your chance to prove your unyielding love for her. Overcoming death itself is the greatest accomplishment a man can achieve for his beloved.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m fine now. Let’s keep moving.”

“Got that right,” Elizabeth smirked. “At the very least, she deserves to give you a nice slap on the face. I could lend her my microphone if she wanted something more painful.”

“A girl’s heart really is delicate, isn’t it…?”

* * *

Another day later, the Servants journeyed as far west as they could. They reached the area that would be instated as California over 65 years from now, arriving on the beaches where the city of Oakland would be established in the future. The landscape was pristine, with no sign of the modern era that would change the land into a bustling metropolis.

Ituha placed her hand over her forehead and panned her eyes across the water, searching for the prison island. She pointed to a small mass of land jutting out from the ocean and said, “That must be it. But how are we going to get there?”

“It’s not a very big island,” Rama said. If he looked bad yesterday, his condition was at its absolute worst today. “It’d be difficult to land without being seen…”

“Then we just don’t bother with the stealth and go for it,” Elizabeth declared boldly. “More importantly, I am NOT swimming! The seawater will ruin my skin!”

“The currents are strong, and the water must be freezing,” Ituha murmured. “Let me see if I can find us a boat.”

She ran around the beach for a short while until she came across an elderly man who was calmly fishing at a nearby pier. She quickly explained the situation to him, then returned to her allies and said, “I managed to procure us a boat. But that gentleman said something really disturbing.”

“What is it?” Nightingale asked.

“Apparently there are ‘demons’ on Alcatraz. He hinted that they may actually be dragons.”

“Huh. That doesn’t sound too bad,” Elizabeth shrugged. “I’m part dragon myself. I can take them on no problem.”

“Servants and dragons regardless, we must go. The patient has nearly exhausted the last of his strength,” Nightingale warned them. “We mustn’t be afraid of battle. We’ll push through and reunite Rama with Sita posthaste.”

“Yes. Let’s hurry,” Ituha said.

* * *

Just as the heroes suspected, there was one Servant standing guard at Alcatraz. He was known as Beowulf, the Scandinavian hero who slew a grendel with his bare hands. He was summoned here as a Berserker, appearing in his peak condition when he was a youth. His attire didn’t consist of anything except for a pair of black pants, bandages around his wrists, and a pair of handcuffs with a very long thread of chains. What stood out for him were the generous number of huge scars etched all over his face and body. He wielded a pair of broad swords, Hrunting and Naegling, although it was said that his true power did not lie within using them.

Beowulf planted one bare foot on the stone balustrade and squinted as he saw the boat with Nightingale’s group approaching from mainland America. He analyzed who they were and estimated their capabilities based on their appearances and the weapons they carried. He figured that since Rama was fatally injured, only the three females would prove to be a worthy challenge for him.

“Hey come on, just _three_ of them? Two of them look like little brats as well. That’s hardly enough for a good scrap,” he complained with a disappointed frown. He took a closer look at the Servants however and paused. His eyebrows pursed in curiosity as he focused his attention on Ituha.

_Wait a minute. That kid looks awfully familiar…_

After some recollecting, he eventually matched her face with someone else’s. He widened his eyes in surprise as he murmured, “Well, I’ll be. It’s Cuchulainn’s kid, isn’t it? The rascal that Medb is calling the Celtic Princess or whatever?”

His mind drifted back to when he became acquainted with the little girl.

* * *

_Two months ago…_

It was the middle of the night. Darkness enveloped the White House, save for rows of softly glowing candles in numerous sconces that lit up the hallways. Beowulf returned inside after doing some strength training by himself, and he wiped his brow with a cloth. Satisfied that he had enough of his workout, he headed for his room to get some sleep. He stretched his arms and let out an unrefined yawn as he turned the corner, only to stop immediately when he came upon an unusual sight.

Just outside her bedroom, Connla sat on the floor in a fetal position, hugging a pillow close to her face and chest like a stuffed doll. It was rather chilly, yet she only wore her nightgown and left her legs and feet bare. Her eyes were closed, so she either was asleep or trying to pass out there.

“Hey,” Beowulf whispered and shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked at him wearily as he asked, “What are you doing out here?”

Connla didn’t respond immediately. She wasn’t sure who the man was at first, but then remembered seeing his face a few times, especially during meals. She hadn’t been told much about him other than he was a famous beast slayer from the Scandinavian region of Europe. Normally she would stay far away from someone who frightened her with his countless scars and barbaric countenance, but she was too tired to react with her usual hesitance at this moment. Despite his normally rough and tumble behavior, his concerned expression told her that he had no intention of beating her up or anything.

She rubbed her eyes and mumbled, “I couldn’t sleep…”

“Why not?”

Connla glanced over at her door, then got up and showed him inside. She suddenly averted her eyes from the décor and hid behind Beowulf. After taking a good look around, he figured out what had made her so upset.

“Oh, I get it,” he realized.

Lined along the walls were numerous statues of dragons, chimeras, gargoyles, serpents and mythical creatures, all lit up by sparse candlelight to create a nightmarish scene of monsters glaring at their prey from the darkness. He was just glad not to find a grendel monument anywhere, or his blood would really have boiled. He folded his arms and muttered, “So this is Medb’s idea of interior design, huh?”

“Mm…”

Beowulf grumbled, glaring at the draconic effigies. “That bimbo has some seriously bad taste. I can put up with it throughout the rest of the place, but in a little kid’s room? That’s just low.”

Without any warning, he suddenly rammed his bulky fists through the statue and smashed it into thousands of fragments. The astonished Connla quietly watched as he continued bashing the gargoyle monuments and chimera figures, reducing them to powdery rubble. After a few minutes of demolishing the statues, Beowulf cracked his knuckles and said with a satisfied grin, “There you go. No more creepy crawlies to keep you awake.”

“Um… I, uh…”

“What, cat got your tongue?”

“No, I just wasn’t expecting you to…”

“Did I startle you? My bad. Think of this as a chance to do a little remodeling. Don’t expect me to clean up though.”

“N-No, I’ll do that,” Connla uttered.

“Good. I’m gonna be stationed somewhere starting tomorrow, so you take care of yourself. Make sure you tell that crazy vixen to get you some flowers and books instead of those god-awful statues, ‘kay?”

“Sure…”

She watched him leave, then stared at the mess he left behind.

* * *

_The present…_

“So she’s coming here as the enemy, huh?” Beowulf said to himself. “I heard she was actually pretty good as a Lancer. Maybe I’ll give her skills a test.”

He turned towards the wyverns who were perched all along the prison facility, then shouted, “All right, you bastards! Time to go to work!”

The dragons roared in response to their commander’s order and flapped their mighty wings, taking flight and diving down towards the heroes.

* * *

Inside her dark, isolating cell, a beautiful young woman tilted her head up when she felt a tinge of energy bursting in her chest. She looked almost identical to Rama except she kept her long orange hair in a pair of pigtails, and she had a bow as her weapon rather than a sword. She got to her knees and gasped lightly.

“… Lord Rama?”


	9. Honor and Sacrifice

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 9: Honor and Sacrifice**

_“GO! GO! GO!”_ Nightingale screamed at the top of her lungs.

She, Ituha and Elizabeth charged up the craggy cliff sides surrounding Alcatraz’s prison. They already saw several wyverns circling around the perimeter, so the nurse figured they didn’t need to waste time with being stealthy. They instead barged on in at full strength, with Nightingale and Elizabeth taking the lead together while Ituha hung back and focused on shooting down any dragons that she could.

“Ansuz!” the Archer shouted, charging up another large stone with the familiar Rune, surrounding it in fire before slinging it at the nearest wyvern. The projectile exploded against its face and caused the stunned creature to plummet into the forest with a crash. Any monsters that got too close were dealt with swiftly by the other two Servants.

Elizabeth stabbed her spear into one dragon’s neck, slitting its throat to ensure it didn’t get back up, before wiping her brow and exclaiming, “Piece of cake!”

Nightingale shot out another beast’s eye with her pistol, then pummeled her fists on its cranium as hard as she could until it was dead. She retorted to the complacent Lancer, “Not yet! The operation has only begun! We almost at the source of this illness, so stay on guard!”

Just as she said that, one of the dragons slashed its claws at her chest, and her military jacket was ripped open along with a small layer of her skin. She jumped backwards and growled in pain, while Ituha summoned a fireball and sent it detonating at the wyvern’s head. She too had to get out of the way when another beast swooped down to try and grab her with its talons.

“Ungh!” Rama gasped painfully, then yelled at Nightingale, “Hey, don’t get yourself injured because of me!”

“Be quiet! I will put my life on the line for your treatment!”

“I… I just don’t want you to be harmed…”

“Enough. I will cure you, no matter the cost. That is my job as a nurse. Any blood I shed contributes to the goal of exterminating incurable illnesses. You need to be more resolute and determined to live, or else it will be impossible for me to treat you when you do not have the will to survive.”

“I know that… Man, you really are a Berserker…”

“Do you disapprove?”

“No. If you’re determined to live, then I am too. I’ll fight to survive, and you’ll fight to make sure I live.”

“Good,” Nightingale nodded. “We’re almost at the gate. One last push, everyone!”

“Here we go! Ready or not, here we come, you stupid Servant!” Elizabeth yelled while running toward the prison, with Ituha and Nightingale in tow. The trio managed to break through the horde of dragons and approach the main gate. Waiting for them there was Beowulf, who had his dual swords ready for some action.

 _Whoa!_ Ituha thought. _He looks really powerful!_

“Yo,” he greeted them with a scoffing grin. “Welcome to Alcatraz, ladies. What’s your business here? Imprisonment? Assault? Aiding a jailbreak? Even if you don’t tell me, I’ll interrogate you so brutally that you’ll die, no questions asked. That’s my job as the chief warden here.”

“Get out of the way, you bothersome dullard,” Nightingale snapped at him. “We need to see this man’s wife so she can help me treat him. Either you release her, or we’ll break in.”

“Seriously? You’re just here for a meeting? You didn’t come here for a fight?”

“Why in the world would a nurse want to look for a fight? The only things I fight are illness and injury.”

“I suppose so. A nurse who takes lives would be unfathomable. Seems you’re rather respectable for a fellow Berserker.”

“I have to agree,” Rama grinned. “She’s a contradictory woman, who is both out of her mind and decent.”

Beowulf raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. I thought you were just some luggage, but you can actually speak. I assume you’re that little lady’s husband, right? Unfortunately, I have no intentions of releasing her.”

Nightingale scowled, “Any obstacles obstructing my patient’s treatment must be eliminated. To that end, I will spill every last drop of blood you have so that you will no longer bar passage!”

“Heh… Hah hah hah hah hah hah! Amusing! It’s hilarious how sad your delusion of defeating me is!”

Elizabeth’s skin prickled with goose bumps, and she shuddered, “Ugh… This oaf is making me feel uncomfortable for some reason…”

“I bet I do, little lizard,” Beowulf smirked. “You’re facing none other than the Dragon Slayer, Beowulf!”

“Well, that would explain it. Now I’m really mad! We won’t let a rowdy simpleton like you get in the way of Rama’s long-awaited reunion!”

Ituha couldn’t say anything to the scarred man, feeling apprehensive about directing his attention toward her. Even so, she wanted to make sure at least Nightingale got inside the penitentiary – it wasn’t really necessary for Ituha and Elizabeth to go in with her. She whispered to the nurse, “Ms. Nightingale, could you take Lord Rama to his wife on your own?”

“What!? I can’t leave you to fight this man alone! I couldn’t forgive myself if you sustained injuries on top of your present illness!”

“But I want to ask him something…”

“Don’t you worry a lick, doc!” Elizabeth exclaimed with a proud grin and spun her spear in her hand. “I’ll make sure that brute doesn’t lay a finger on the puppy! Just get him reunited with his wife and treat him ASAP!”

“I’m a nurse, not a doctor.”

“Semantics, schmantics! Just get your ass in there already!”

“Tch,” Nightingale wanted to curse at Elizabeth, but took a quick glance at Rama and saw that he was about to pass out from sheer exhaustion.

 _“Not gonna happen!”_ Beowulf roared, growing impatient with listening to this conversation and charging straight for the trio. Elizabeth met him in battle and swung her spear about, forcing him aside so Nightingale could run past them. Beowulf knocked Elizabeth aside, but had to jump back further to avoid some high-speed pebbles that Ituha shot at him. The two girls remained behind to keep him away from the nurse while she stormed inside Alcatraz to find Sita.

“Now you’ve really done it, brats!” the brawler snapped. “I hope you’re both ready for the pounding of your lives!”

Elizabeth taunted, “Bring it on, jackass! I promise you’ll regret messing with Elizabeth Bathory, the Dragon’s Daughter and the Servant world’s number one idol!”

* * *

Nightingale’s frantic steps echoed through the long hallways of the prison. Rama’s strained breathing told her that she needed to hurry. Although her heart and lungs threatened to burst from the fervent running, she wouldn’t stop to take a break.

“We’re almost there,” she assured him. “Just a little longer. Once I find her, you can tell your wife how much you love her.”

“I… actually… have to… tell you something…” Rama whispered, his voice sounding very raspy.

“What?”

“I didn’t… want to say this… in front of… the girls. But… I have a curse…”

“You mean Gae Bolg’s toxin? Don’t worry – Sita and I will-“

“Not that. It’s… a different curse. One that… forces Sita and I… to remain separated… forever…”

“You never mentioned anything like that before.”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to… cause further sorrow… for those two kids…”

“Hm,” Nightingale murmured, recognizing his logic. “Curse or not, I will take you to your wife regardless. How things play out will be up to destiny.”

“I know. I just… didn’t want you… to be angry… with me…”

“There’s no need for me to be angry. Everything I do is for your treatment.”

Nightingale eventually reached the cells, and she found the one that the orange-haired woman was incarcerated in. She used her gun to shoot out the lock, then freed the lady and asked, “Are you Sita, wife of Rama?”

“I am,” she responded with a delicate voice. “Oh, Lord Rama!”

“Damn it…” the swordsman groaned, and Nightingale laid him on the floor. “My vision’s… going dark…”

“I’m here. I’m right next to you.”

“Sita… I wanted to see you again… I really, really wanted to see you again… But I can’t… see anything… I can’t… hold on…”

He lost consciousness, and the nurse declared, “We must begin treatment. Normally I wouldn’t perform medical procedures in such a filthy place, but I will have to make an exception.”

Sita asked worriedly, “What happened to Lord Rama, ma’am?”

“It’s a long story. Basically he was struck down by Cuchulainn’s Gae Bolg, and we came here because we need your help.”

“My word. To think something so horrible would happen to him.”

The dainty archer took her husband’s hand and said, “This meeting truly is a miracle. Even as Heroic Spirits, we are fated to never meet again. In any Holy Grail War, it is either Lord Rama or myself that is summoned as the Servant ‘Rama’. He could have forgotten about me and left the curse behind to find himself a new wife, but he never did. That kind of devotion shows me his love and passion more than enough. It is that love that will make us yearn for each other, now and forever, even if that yearning only strengthens our curse even further.”

“He mentioned something like that to me,” Nightingale said. “In this precarious world we live in however, where the balance of existence is extremely distorted, it must have allowed for both of you to be summoned here.”

“Yes, I believe that is how this otherwise impossible reunion came to be.”

“Grrgh…” the nurse scowled. “I’ve mended him all I can, but Gae Bolg’s curse is still interfering.”

Sita smiled softly and said, “Then I will offer my body.”

“What do you mean?”

“You brought him here so that I could strengthen his ‘existence’, right? Since Lord Rama and I are essentially the same Servant, it means our bodies are 100% compatible. All you have to do is transfer the curse to me, and I will disappear in his place.”

“You understand that Rama came all this way just for you. Sacrificing yourself would defeat the purpose.”

“I know, and I am fine with this decision. His feelings for me are more than enough. Besides, you are looking for a powerful warrior to rally your forces against the Celtic armies, no? In that case, my husband is the one you want to survive more than me. He is a hero who gathered an army of monkeys and fought against Ravana for 14 years. You will want his wisdom and experience, I’m sure.”

“Hm…” Nightingale couldn’t deny that she needed help in her own mission of removing the accursed Celts from the land and healing the concept of ‘America’ at its roots. Finally, she relented and said, “Very well. I will transfer the lesion to you. Are you certain about this?”

“Yes.”

“… You know, I never married in my lifetime. Even so, I can relate to the wish of helping others,” the nurse smiled lightly. “It was an honor to speak with you, Mrs. Sita. I’ll be sure to pass on your message to Rama.”

“Please do. Take care of my husband for me.”

“Of course. Farewell.”

Sita clasped her hand around Rama’s, and Gae Bolg’s curse slithered from his heart to hers. She felt her body being destroyed from within, but she bore the devastating pain with a stoic smile. With the transfer complete, Nightingale could finally repair Rama’s curse-free heart to its fullest.

“Lord Rama…” Sita whispered in her beloved’s ear. “I’ll take this burden for you so that you may fight with no restraint. This is my small way of aiding your cause in saving this world. Lord Rama… I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

Sita’s body glowed and dissipated into thousands of golden stars that twinkled, lighting up the dank prison walls before dimming into nothingness. Nightingale watched Sita pass away, inhaling a soft sigh as she felt relieved that Ituha and Elizabeth were not here to witness this sad scene. She shook her head and continued healing Rama in silence.

* * *

“Come on now! You wanna hear the greatest hit of the Servant world!? Time for the Finale! **_Báthory Erzsébet!_** ”

The image of Castle Csejte rose from the ground, and Elizabeth leapt onto the tallest precipice to lord herself over the irate Beowulf. Thanks to her dragon lineage, she could fill her lungs with a greater capacity of air, preparing to sing her greatest song as her Noble Phantasm. Csejte itself was both a castle and a gargantuan pair of speakers that would amplify her terrible singing to the point that any listener in the immediate vicinity would call it hell on Earth. It wouldn’t be ‘singing’, so much as a ‘force of destruction’ that would wreck the area and rupture any weak-willed man’s eardrums.

**_“LAAA~AAA~AAA~AAA~AAA~AAA~AHHHH!”_ **

Yes, it sounded as horrifying as one would expect.

Elizabeth had told Ituha to take cover beforehand, so the little girl wasn’t around to bear the full brunt of the attack like Beowulf was. Even so, the Archer covered her ears as best as she could. Her muscles vibrated on their own, and her brain felt like it was bouncing around inside her skull. Once the abhorrent cacophony returned to gracious silence, Ituha looked back to see the extent of the damage.

She saw a large section of the prison wall cratered in from the sonic force. Beowulf’s arms and legs were splayed out while his back was pressed firmly against the ruined brickwork. A lot of blood seeped from cuts on his forehead, face, and body, and the man appeared both strained and extremely agitated as he glared at the girls.

“Son of a bitch…” he groaned, peeling off the wall like dead skin and falling to his knees. He propped himself back up with his swords and glowered at Elizabeth, “I’ll give you credit for one thing – at least your roar is worse than your bite.”

“That wasn’t a roar! It was my number one hit, reserved for jerks like you who need to be tortured for getting in my way!” she retorted.

“Like I give a damn. This is rather troublesome though – I don’t really like picking fights with women and children, but I won’t turn down a challenge either.”

“Hah! Don’t underestimate the puppy and I just because we’re girls! We’ll send you packing back to the Throne before you even know it!”

“Well, well,” Beowulf smirked. “In that case, I’ll have to throw chivalry out the window and destroy you two without remorse.”

He tried to get back to his feet, but then one of Ituha’s stones shot straight for his face. He barely avoided it, and he heard a distinct crack in the wall behind him. He looked back to find the stone deeply embedded inside one of the bricks. If it had hit him directly, it probably would have split his head open.

“Wait!” Ituha commanded, wielding her used slingshot. “Before that, I want to ask you something! If you’re working with the Celts, then you should know who I am, right?”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re Cuchulainn’s kid, aren’t you? I didn’t quite catch your name, but there’s no mistaking it.”

“So it’s true. You and Mr. Fergus couldn’t be lying about the same thing. That means I really am…”

“Hmph,” the brawler scoffed and stood back up. “I heard what happened to Fergus. The rumor is that a little girl who looked like that princess was the one who burned him to death. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“Not bad, if I say so myself. You had the guts to take down a Celtic hero with such a brutal method. I guess I better not screw around anymore if I don’t want to wind up like him.”

Elizabeth and Ituha got into position as Beowulf made his dual swords disappear, then audibly cracked his knuckles. They could feel his raw power grow stronger, and a fiery-like aura surrounded him.

“This is how I fight! Kick and punch until only one person is left standing!” he roared, then rushed toward them at lightning speed. **_“Grendel Buster!”_**

 _“Get back!”_ Elizabeth screamed and pushed Ituha away. Beowulf overtook her and started kicking and punching her with animalistic ferocity. The young Archer could only watch in horror as he pummeled her partner with dozens of powerful punches – the same blows he was known for slaying the legendary grendel with.

“I’ll send you flying!” Beowulf shouted and slammed his rock-hard fist against Elizabeth’s face, making her tumble across the grass before violently smacking against the wall. The teenager gasped heavily and collapsed into a pitiful heap. Ituha couldn’t sit back and watch anymore, so she raised her arms and summoned the red magic circles upon her hands, conjuring the familiar flames over her palms.

**_“Coinneal Léimneach!”_ **

“Shit!” Beowulf cursed when he saw the undulating blaze barreling for him. Although he was caught in the crossfire, he endured it and leapt over the surprised girl, materializing his swords back into his hands and aiming them at her. Before he could cleave her apart though, Elizabeth threw herself at him and batted him aside with her spear.

“You evil bastard!” the furious idol ranted at him. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I can’t stand you anymore! All of you brutes are standing in the way of my inevitable stardom! Hurry up and get out of my sight before I-!”

Elizabeth suddenly stopped screaming when Beowulf thrust his hand at her face, pummeling her back against the wall and tightening his grip around her mouth to keep her quiet. He pinned her spear arm with his free hand, preventing her from breaking free. Both Elizabeth and Ituha were shocked beyond belief, as shown by their horribly widened eyes and stunned expressions.

 _“Look here, you little shit,”_ Beowulf growled darkly. His stony glare could frighten demons, and Elizabeth’s heart beat faster at the sight. “There are two things I hate in this world. The first are dragons, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“Mmph, mmngh-!” she struggled to talk, but he just pushed against her harder. He didn’t care that she bit her sharp fangs into his hand.

“And the second? Loud, annoying people who constantly complain about themselves. If you don’t like what fate has given you, then shut the hell up and fight with everything you’ve got. Otherwise, go home and wither away in your self-pity.”

He smirked devilishly and snarled, “Get it now, you little demon? You’re the embodiment of everything I can’t stand in this world, so I’m gonna do myself a favor by snapping your neck as painlessly as possible. If I’m lucky, I might even destroy your larynx so you can’t bother everyone with that shrill screaming you pass off as music.”

Elizabeth choked as Beowulf wrapped his fingers around her throat and squeezed tightly.

“Stop it!” Ituha screamed, running up to him while conjuring a fireball. He batted her aside with ease and continued strangling his prey. The young girl slammed on her back before staring up at the scene in terror.

“Don’t worry – I won’t kill you,” Beowulf assured her. “I don’t know what the deal is with your memory loss, but you’re definitely that little princess who’s gone missing recently. If I bring you back to the big guy, I’m sure he’ll reward me with all the meat I could ever ask for.”

“Then take me already! You don’t need to kill Ms. Elizabeth!”

“Oh? You’re saying you’ll exchange your freedom for this pipsqueak’s life? That ain’t happening. I’ve been ordered to beat any enemies of his to the ground in a bloody pulp, and I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“No way…”

Elizabeth somehow managed to croak, “R… R-Run…! Run… away…!”

Ituha didn’t want to abandon her partner, but if she remained here any longer, Beowulf would definitely capture her. If she was quick, she could flee inside Alcatraz and find Nightingale for support. However, she also knew that the nurse was busy treating Rama, and Ituha didn’t want to expose the mortally injured Servant to any danger. She looked back and thought, _Maybe if I lure him away, it might buy Ms. Nightingale some time…_

“Whoops. You’ve got that look in your eye that tells me you’re planning something,” the scarred fighter realized with a smug grin. “Guess I better finish up quickly.”

He was about to kill Elizabeth before Ituha’s eyes, but in that instant, something prevented him from finishing the job.

**_“BRAHMASTRA!”_ **

“What the-!?” Beowulf yelped, then screamed, “GAAAAH!”

He was suddenly thrown back by a shining halo of pure energy that ripped through the air and smashed against him. Elizabeth collapsed forward, and Ituha caught her at ground level. The Archer shielded her eyes from the bright light, then opened them once the brilliant glow dimmed enough. Standing several feet from the surprised duo was Nightingale, along with a fully healed Rama who had just launched his Noble Phantasm. His sword spun through the air and returned to his triumphantly raised hand.

“Lord Rama!” Ituha exclaimed happily.

“Sheesh… took you… long enough!” Elizabeth complained, coughing fervently.

“I apologize for the delay,” he said, then kneeled before the amnesiac child. “Are you okay?”

“Thanks to you,” she said. “Even though I’ve been fighting Sir Beowulf as seriously as I can, he’s still too powerful for me to actually defeat.”

“You did well, despite not remembering anything about your full combat capabilities.”

Elizabeth interjected, “Hey, I did my best too! Don’t you go leaving me out of the conversation!”

“Ha ha! Of course I haven’t forgotten about you,” Rama chuckled, then looked at Beowulf as he vaulted back to his feet and glared at the group with both rage and fighting passion. “You two stand back now. I’ll take care of this.”

“Damn. Looks like I took too long,” Beowulf rubbed his bleeding lip. “So the dying hero comes to save the day, huh? That’s just in poor taste, y’know.”

“As if you’re any better, picking a fight with small children. If you want an opponent your size, I’ll be glad to take you on.”

Without further ado, the two men charged at each other and swung their blades about in a furious frenzy. While he was battling, Rama thought about what happened to his wife.

_Sita… I knew you would do such a thing for me. But I must not be discouraged. Just as I defied death to see you once again, you embraced that same death so that I could live and save this world. I won’t let your sacrifice be wasted on self-pity and dejection. I’ll fight with everything I’ve got so I can survive and look for you again!_

“Kgh! Ugh! Gah!” Beowulf grunted repeatedly, astonished by how strong his new opponent really was. He swung in a desperate attempt to throw Rama off him, but the Indian hero was too fast for him and dodged his strikes like water flowing around one’s arm.

“TAH!” Rama unleashed his battle cry, rushing in low and cutting at Beowulf’s midsection. The brawler could feel his strength running out as blood poured out of the deep wound, and he got down to one knee in defeat. He was already weakened from his fight with Elizabeth and Ituha, so he wasn’t too surprised that Rama managed to get in such a nasty hit.

“You got me, chump… I lose.”

“Well said. You may be a brute, but you still have honor.”

“Did you get to see the dainty lady?”

“Yeah. I told her everything I wanted to.”

“Then it’s fine. I screwed up royally here. I’ll do the proper thing and let you guys go.”

“Let _us_ go? I’m afraid it’s the other way around.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Beowulf smirked. Despite his grave injury, he stood back up and said, “You’ll regret not finishing me off here.”

He turned around and leapt atop Alcatraz, disappearing from sight for a while so he could recover in peace. Rama sheathed his sword and returned to his friends’ sides. Nightingale was busy healing Elizabeth up, and Ituha had watched the battle with pure fascination. The little girl approached him and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m better than ever,” he gave her a thumbs up sign.

“Where’s Lady Sita? Did you get to see her?”

His expression turned sullen for a moment. Then he brightened up and said, “Yeah, I did. But I was so close to dying that she had to use all of her power to restore my existence and banish Gae Bolg’s curse.”

“Was it that bad?”

“It was. There’s nothing to be sad about though. It was a happy reunion.”

Ituha didn’t look entirely convinced, but decided not to ask him about it further. If she did, she was afraid she would hear something that would make her depressed. After Nightingale finished healing Elizabeth, she said, “We’re done here. We have to go back east and see how Geronimo’s group is doing. Has there been any contact from them yet, Ituha?”

“No. The communicator has been silent this whole time. I really hope nothing bad has happened to them.”

“Then let’s get… Wait!”

“Yeah, I sense it too,” Rama narrowed his eyes and took out his sword again. “Two Servants are nearby!”

“You’re kidding!” Elizabeth whined. “Did that muscle-bound jerk bring backup!?”

“I don’t think so. They’re coming from a different direction.”

The heroes gazed ahead nervously until two figures emerged from the forest surrounding Alcatraz. As they feared, the newcomers were Celts – Fionn mac Cumhaill and Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, to be precise.

“Just as we expected,” Fionn declared. “We heard that intruders had infiltrated Alcatraz. Prepare yourselves, for we have come to annihilate you once and for all!”

The four Servants readied themselves for another intense battle. However, Diarmuid’s throat went dry when he saw Ituha. His eyes widened as he half-choked, half-yelped, “It can’t be! Princess, is that really you!?”

Ituha mumbled hesitantly, unsure of how to respond. Nightingale firmly said, “Judging by your familiarity with the child’s identity, you two are also Celtic Servants.”

“What do you mean?”

“She has complete amnesia. The fellow called Fergus divulged her True Name to her when we defeated him, but she still doesn’t remember anything. Now that I have discharged Rama from my care, I can now dedicate myself to Ituha’s recovery as well as treating the disease infecting this nation.”

“Is that so?” Diarmuid murmured sullenly. “For the princess to forget everything about herself… I suppose after witnessing such unimaginable horrors, it would only be natural for her mind to shut everything out.”

“What are you talking about? Do you know the source of her mental affliction?”

“That is…”

Fionn interrupted them by blurting, “I don’t believe this is the time or place to discuss such matters. If Miss Connla really partook in Fergus’ demise, then that means she’s a traitor to us, amnesia or not. In that case, Cuchulainn ordered us to destroy her should she ever turn on us. It’s rather tragic, considering that he is wiping out the Americans so that she can rule our new, much more glorious Celtic nation as the future queen without having to worry about enemies from other countries invading us. Without Miss Connla around, Cuchulainn’s reign of destruction will only be as such.”

“How ludicrous,” Rama retorted. “It doesn’t matter if she is with him or not – he’ll bring ruin to anyone and everyone equally, including his own people. All he’ll accomplish in the end is giving her a complete wasteland of death and despair to rule over. No one in their right mind would want anything like that.”

“Perhaps. But his hope is that she will revitalize the land with her loving care after he is gone. That is the future all of us Celts strive for. Isn’t that right, Diarmuid?”

The black-haired spearman didn’t respond. His lips were tightly sealed as he struggled to come to terms with his chaotic emotions. After a tense moment, he finally uttered, “Lord Fionn… Forgive me!”

Then, to everyone’s unexpected shock, he leapt from Fionn’s side and landed right in front of Ituha!

“Wha-!?” the girl yelped. The other heroes prepared to beat him away from her, but he suddenly raised Gae Dearg and pointed it at his liege. They weren’t sure what to make of this surprise scene, so they remained on guard.

The blonde-haired warrior narrowed his eyes and scowled, “What is the meaning of this?”

“I think you understand more than anyone, sir,” Diarmuid replied evenly.

“Are you betraying us as well?”

“That’s right. Although it pains my heart to have to turn on you, I have dedicated myself to searching for the princess for one reason only – to protect her from the madness that caused her to fall into such deep despair!”

“Nonsense! How could she be in anguish when Cuchulainn has given her everything a girl like her could ever dream of!?”

“You didn’t notice at all, did you? Throughout the time she lived in the White House, I kept my eye on her training to be a proper royal. As time went on though, I saw it more than any of you – she was never happy! She was always depressed, forcing herself to swallow her tears and endure being surrounded by monsters and madmen! It was impossible for her to confide in anyone when any wrong move could cause her to be executed!

“Cuchulainn and Medb don’t care about her at all! They just want to turn her into a trophy that they can display! As one of her guardians, I cannot allow myself to stand idly by and watch her suffer anymore! Whatever the princess’ decision may be, I will give her all of my support from now on!”

Fionn was quite disturbed to hear such a revelation coming from his most trusted knight. He exhaled in frustration, yet smiled a little as he said, “Loyal to a fault, I see. Although Miss Connla is much too young for you, it seems your soft spot for the fairer sex hasn’t dulled in the slightest.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Lord Fionn! I’m dead serious!”

“Yes, I can see that. But I have to ask – what made you change your mind so late in the game? If you noticed that she was so upset, you could have kidnapped her and taken her to a safe place way back when.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Not going to say anything, hm? So be it. Since you’ve officially declared yourself an enemy of the Celts, I have no choice but to eliminate you as well, Diarmuid!”


	10. What the Wind Scattered

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 10: What the Wind Scattered**

Fionn and Diarmuid wasted no time rushing in at each other and clashing their spears in a whirlwind dervish. They grunted and yelled as they tried to get in their own strikes, only to be expertly parried over and over again. This kept up for a few minutes, and the other four watched the duel in silence. Diarmuid had told them not to interfere since it was his own decision to abandon the Celts, and he wanted to see it through to the end with Fionn.

“Hah!” Fionn slammed his spear onto the ground that Diarmuid leapt back from, engulfing the spot with a torrent of water that emanated from his weapon.

“Toh!” Diarmuid stabbed at Fionn’s head multiple times, but he rolled out of the way and swiped his polearm at his opponent’s legs, knocking him onto his side before getting back onto his feet and preparing to slam Diarmuid’s body. He vaulted away in time, but lost his balance from the tremendous smashing force.

“I’ve got you now!” Fionn grinned wildly, and his weapon was consumed in a swirling torrent of water. **_“Mac an Luin!”_**

He thrust his spear forth, and a razor-thin stream of water shot at Diarmuid’s midsection. He crossed his dual lances at the impact site and resisted the jet-like forces as best as he could. The water splashed around his body without mercy, eventually throwing him off his feet and sending him tumbling backwards. Diarmuid skidded back into his feet while Fionn charged at him, hoping to land the decisive blow on his friend. The enchanted wrappings on his lances seemed to unfurl on their own as he activated his Noble Phantasm.

**_“Gae Dearg! Gae Buidhe!”_ **

Diarmuid first raised the red spear Gae Dearg and slashed at Fionn’s chest, nullifying the enhancements that he had placed upon himself earlier. Then with the yellow spear Gae Buidhe, he jammed it clean through Fionn’s breastbone. He extracted the lance from his friend’s battered body and left him to fall to the ground. The wound caused by Gae Buidhe would never heal unless Diarmuid destroyed the spear himself, and he already made his desire to survive and protect Connla clear. Thus, Fionn’s demise was guaranteed.

“Ungh… So this is as far as I go…” the spearman grunted between bloody chokes.

“I’m so sorry,” Diarmuid moaned. “I really, truly am. But I cannot ignore the princess’ suffering anymore. I cannot tolerate watching her be in distress any further.”

“No… I should have… recognized it too. Heh… So this is… what it’s like… to be in your shoes… when you died in life. How fitting… it is for me… to perish this way....”

“Lord Fionn…”

“If you have no regrets… then go. Defend Miss Connla… from Cuchulainn’s madness.”

Fionn’s body shone gold, then disappeared as he returned to the Throne of Heroes. Diarmuid sheathed his spears and approached the group, declaring, “It is done. As of now, I will dedicate myself to your cause and make sure the princess does not come to harm.”

“Excellent,” Rama smiled. “Since Ituha doesn’t remember anything about her time with the Celts, any intel you could provide us will be most valuable.”

Nightingale said, “More importantly, I need to know everything about her past so I can figure out a way to treat her psychological trauma.”

Diarmuid nodded. “Of course. I will explain on the way to your next intended destination.”

“Um… Sir Diarmuid?” Ituha asked him timidly.

“What is it, princess?”

“About that… Could you not call me a princess anymore? It kind of makes me feel uncomfortable…”

He kneeled in front of her. “If that is your wish, then certainly. What would you like me to address you as?”

“I’m using the name Ituha until I can remember everything.”

“Then Miss Ituha, you have nothing to fear as long as I am around. Relax and leave the heavy fighting to me.”

“Mm.”

Elizabeth grinned and exclaimed, “Now that’s what I call a happy ending! The bad guys are out of our hair, Rama’s all healed up, and we get a new ally! It must be my inherent luck blessing us with such fortune! Nothing can piss on this day! He he, I can’t wait to gloat about it all over Saber!”

“I wonder how the others are doing,” Rama wondered. “Should we head to Washington then?”

As if on cue, that was when the transceiver that Robin Hood gave Ituha beeped to life, and the girl answered, “Hello?”

“H-Hey… Is that the kid Archer?” the bowman’s strained voice moaned from the other line.

“Robin?” Ituha murmured, surprised to hear the bowman’s voice instead of Geronimo’s. “How is the assassination coming along?”

Diarmuid murmured to himself, “Assassination?”

Robin gasped in exhaustion, “Sorry… We screwed up…”

She exclaimed, “Tell us what happened!”

“Geronimo, Billy and Nero… I had to leave them behind… At this rate, they’re probably…”

“What the hell are you talking about!?” Elizabeth shouted angrily, her jovial mood suddenly changing into hysteria. “What happened to Saber!? Why did you leave them like that!?”

“I’m heading over to an abandoned American campground. I’ll give you the coordinates, so come as fast as you can. I’ll explain everything there.”

“Okay,” Ituha said and cut the transmission.

Elizabeth looked downhearted as she whimpered, “You’re kidding, right? He was lying, wasn’t he? There’s no way Saber could have lost.”

“Don’t panic. Let’s just hear what he has to say first.”

“Yeah…”

With their business on Alcatraz settled, the now-group of five Servants returned to the boat and sailed back to shore before returning eastward to the location Robin specified. Along the way, Nightingale and Diarmuid used this opportunity to discuss everything that he knew concerning Ituha’s condition.

“So, you are acquainted with my patient,” the nurse said to him. “Judging by your behavior while around her, you must have been quite close.”

“Cuchulainn had me oversee her training,” Diarmuid explained. “Medb had an extremely rigorous education regime ready for the princess to undergo, but Cuchulainn interfered with her plans and appointed me to make sure she wasn’t being too stressed with her lessons. Otherwise the princess would have been up night and day studying without rest.”

“That’s unexpected. For someone who is hell-bent on ruining everything, he’s seems surprisingly gracious to his daughter.”

“I don’t know what her past was like, but Cuchulainn threatened that if anyone brought up any sort of discussion regarding her mother or her life in Scotland, he would silence them immediately.”

Rama thought back to his battle with the Mad King and murmured, “His attitude fits with what he said before – that he was seeking a country of peace and quiet that she could enjoy.”

Ituha overheard them and frowned. She couldn’t bring herself to add anything to the conversation since she couldn’t recall anything of her time while in Cuchulainn’s custody. It felt strange to know she had been adored by a man who didn’t mind slaughtering hundreds.

“So then,” Nightingale said to Diarmuid, “what sort of trauma occurred for her to have amnesia?”

“It all began when the princess fled the White House during the middle of the night. Fionn and I took chase after her and I almost caught her in Ohio, but that was when she witnessed the civilians’ dead bodies that the Celts left behind. They had been horribly mutilated and defiled, and the sight caused her to suffer a massive panic attack.”

“Ohio? But that’s where the huge tornado hit last week.”

“Yes. The two of us were swept up in it, and I lost her trail. The thing is, the princess is the one responsible for causing that storm.”

“She is!?” Rama exclaimed. “But you just said you lost her! How can you be certain about that!?”

“I met someone else after coming to, and she told me everything.”

* * *

_After the storm…_

Diarmuid slowly opened his eyes and groaned in pain. He found himself lying on his side near some uprooted trees. The grey sky had given way to clear sunshine while he was out, and several birds made the fallen trees their homes. Everything was quiet once again. He thought back to what he was doing before passing out.

“That’s right… I was looking for the princess, and then…”

He gasped. The image of Connla screaming bloody murder remained fresh in his mind.

“Princess!? Princess! Where are you!?” the spearman shouted, looking around for the young royal. To his dismay, he couldn’t find her anywhere.

He heard a pair of adult feet hit the mud behind him, followed by a woman’s voice firmly declaring, “She’s not here.”

“Hm!?” he looked back, and his eyes widened in surprise. Standing before him was Scathach, the ruler of the Land of Shadows, and the teacher of many great Celtic heroes. “You are… Lady Scathach, yes? What might you be doing here?”

“Ah, perfect. You’re Diarmuid Ua Duibhne of the Fianna Knights, am I correct? Although it would seem you are presently serving the role as one of Cuchulainn’s Servants.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Hm. I was hoping to stop this tragedy, but I was much too late. How shameful of me to allow this to happen.”

“What do you mean? And where is the princess?”

“Is that has Connla has been reduced to? A mere figurehead for the Celts?”

Diarmuid was appalled to hear Scathach say such a thing, but he kept his temper under control and replied, “Cuchulainn ordered me to bring her back to him. I had her in my sights, but then a terrible storm suddenly appeared and I lost her again.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s no surprise. Connla was the source of that tornado.”

“Was she!? But how!?”

“Listen to me, Diarmuid. If you’re so concerned for her well-being, then it is best that I pass the truth to you so you can go search for her properly. But if you are only concerned with strictly following that man’s orders with no regards for Connla’s welfare, then this discussion is over. My hands are tied, and I need to leave that child’s sanctity to someone else. You certainly are a fine choice to be her guardian, but in order to remain by her side, you would have to betray the Celtic army.”

“What!?” He was horrified to have to do something so unimaginable.

“I cannot afford to leave her in the care of someone who constantly frets and toils about his loyalties. Right here and now, you need to make up your mind about who you raise your spears for.”

“…”

“Now, I ask you again; will you leave your allies behind to protect Connla during her time of need, or is servitude to your master much more important? Your choice will determine if I tell you the truth or not.”

Diarmuid’s lips tightened pensively. True, he was an upstanding man who valued chivalry and loyalty above all else, regardless of his master’s personality and/or ideals. As he thought about Connla though, he couldn’t help but remember how sad she always appeared. Nothing that anyone did would make her happy, including him being her personal bodyguard or asking the chef to prepare the finest meal for her. Diarmuid wanted to bring a smile to the little girl’s face, but all of his efforts were in vain. Not only that, but Connla witnessed firsthand how unspeakably brutal the Celts were towards everyone, including themselves. It was a sight he so desperately wanted to shield her from, but he was too late. It was no wonder that she was beyond consolation at that point.

“That storm…” he finally murmured. “You said the princess caused it?”

“That, I can say for sure,” Scathach assured. “She subconsciously unleashed her Noble Phantasm at full strength, indiscriminately destroying both forces here.”

“Then where is she?”

“Are you saying you’ll agree to help her?”

“I will! Please tell me everything you know, Lady Scathach! Is she still alive!?”

“It depends on what you mean by ‘alive’.”

Diarmuid’s eyes widened, frightened by the prospect of what she was going to reveal.

She continued, “Connla must have realized that Cuchulainn and Medb’s idea of constructing a perfect nation for the three of them meant that they would slaughter everyone else who was in their way. She came to the conclusion that this wasn’t a war – this was a one-sided bloodbath, with her happiness being the result that Cuchulainn wanted. You and I both know that Connla is too caring to allow such violence to happen in her name. Seeing those butchered bodies must have devastated her, leading her to believe that everything was her fault, and that she didn’t deserve to live anymore.”

“Foolishness! She shouldn’t have to feel that way!”

“Even so, that tornado was the manifestation of her sheer grief. Not only did she lose control of her Noble Phantasm, but her also mind broke down so rapidly that it affected her Spirit Origin at its fundamental core. Imagine that you dropped a plate onto solid ground; the result would be at least two or three distinctly fractured pieces along with dozens of fragments.”

“Then… you’re saying…”

Scathach closed her eyes forlornly. “Yes. Connla’s Spirit Origin was broken into two halves, and the storm separated them.”

Diarmuid shuddered, not wanting to imagine the depths her heart sunk to for this to happen. He uttered, “S-So… does that mean… she’s deceased…?”

“Not necessarily. It means that the original Lancer known as Connla is gone. In her place however are two brand new Servants who utilize her Spirit Origin as their bases. I didn’t get a good look at what the rewritten Spirit Origins were, but one flew towards the western states while the other headed deep into the eastern Celtic territories.”

“What a disaster… What am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t fret. I am on my way to find the half that fell into the east. I want you to go look for the part that disappeared to the west and safeguard her. If my instincts are correct, she may find refuge with the western forces, which would mean she’ll become an enemy to Cuchulainn. That’s why I wanted you to decide on your loyalties first.”

“Of course. She might have become a different person, but I’ll recognize her immediately. But what are you going to do with the princess’ other half?”

“Although I couldn’t thoroughly analyze the split Spirit Origins, I’m certain that the eastern fragment will wind up being far more dangerous. I could tell that all of Connla’s reasoning and sanity went into the western fragment and should manifest under a different class, so there’s a high probability that the other one will become a Berserker. In that case, I will go and pacify her before Cuchulainn and Medb can capture her. We will need to meet up again once we reclaim both halves and reconstitute her Spirit Origin back into its original form.”

“I get it. So we’re working towards making the princess whole again. Understood. I, Diarmuid, will search for her in the western states posthaste.”

“Thanks,” Scathach smiled lightly. “We will need to arrange a meeting spot after we find them. Until then, I will see you later.”

“Right.”

The warrior woman leapt out of the immediate area with finesse and grace, heading eastward where she would begin her search for Fia-Leanbh. Diarmuid spent a short while getting back up and working out the aches and pains in his muscles from being tossed around by the hurricane. While limbering up, he berated himself for not having done enough to keep Connla safe from both the Celts’ lunacy and her own self-reproaching insanity.

_Just wait, princess. Once I find you, I’ll serve you to the end of time so you do not experience such despair again._

Soon, he heard a series of horse hooves galloping through the mud, and he looked over to find Fionn riding up to him on his steed.

“There you are!” Fionn exclaimed. “I was worried that the storm might have killed you. I’m glad to see you’re safe.”

“You too, sir,” Diarmuid nodded.

“I know you just went through a harrowing experience, but did you get any leads on Miss Connla’s location?”

The black-haired spearman sighed. He wasn’t sure if he should divulge Scathach’s revelation to Fionn, but he was also worried of his friend remaining loyal to the Celts regardless of what Connla’s feelings were. Diarmuid decided not to tell him the truth, instead saying, “I heard from a refugee that they saw someone fitting the princess’ description heading westward.”

“So she wants to seek refuge with Edison? That’s not a good idea. He might execute her to send a message to Cuchulainn, especially if he finds out she’s the king’s daughter.”

“Then we must find her immediately!”

Diarmuid got up on the back of Fionn’s horse, and they rode off to the western territories together.

* * *

_The present…_

“So that’s what happened,” Nightingale said. “Her own father was the source of her affliction, and she went insane with grief.”

“Yes,” Diarmuid replied. “While I have agreed to be Miss Ituha’s guardian in the meantime, it is imperative that I meet up with Lady Scathach and the princess’ missing half so we can cure her.”

“Understood. Since I’ve made myself responsible for her treatment as well, I will cooperate with you on your mission.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

“We’d better hurry,” Rama said. “We have to go to where Robin specified and hear what happened in Washington. Judging from the way he was speaking, it doesn’t sound like it’ll be good news.”

“Nero…” Elizabeth moaned worriedly. Ituha likewise thought about the other Servants, fearing that she really would never see them again.

* * *

It took two more days of traveling for the five Servants to reach the spot that Robin designated. When they arrived at the abandoned Western States campsite however, they found the bowman engaged in combat with some Celtic soldiers who followed him.

“Damn it! You guys are finally here!” he gasped, looking totally exhausted from fleeing and fighting for his life. “Sorry, but we need to get rid of these guys first!”

“Leave it to us!” Rama exclaimed and charged in to intercept a pair of spearmen. A druid tried to fire a bolt of energy at the swordsman, but Ituha slung a fire-enchanted stone at the spell to cancel it out harmlessly while Diarmuid stabbed one of his lances through the spellcaster’s abdomen.

 ** _“Move it, move it, move it, MOVE III~IIT!”_** Elizabeth screamed and thrashed about with her microphone/spear, batting away some warriors who did not anticipate the teenager to be so powerful.

“The only cure available for you mindless grunts is death! Submit to my treatment and disappear!” Nightingale roared while punching, kicking and shooting more men to the ground.

After a short while, the last of the Celts were killed off and the heroes could settle down for once. Diarmuid sheathed his lances and asked Ituha, “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Hey, hey, hey, wait a second!” Robin shouted frantically and pointed at Diarmuid. “We’re not done fighting yet! He’s with the enemy!”

“It’s okay. He’s on our side now,” Rama assured him.

“But he’s a Celt! He could be trying to trick us!”

“He’s defected. We even witnessed him turn against his partner Fionn mac Cumhaill and kill him. Now his mission is to protect Ituha from Cuchulainn.”

“Is that right…?” the archer didn’t look entirely convinced, but opted not to press the issue further.

Elizabeth snatched Robin’s mantle in her vice-like grip and screeched, “Hey you! Tell me what happened! Where are Saber and the others!?”

“Well… We infiltrated Washington as planned, and we struck while the king and queen were holding a parade. Nero had Medb trapped inside her Bounded Field, and we were about to kill her. But then two unexpected things happened.”

“Two?”

“The first is that Medb strengthened Cuchulainn so he could break into the field and intercept us. Medb admitted that she used the Holy Grail to power his existence as a king of destruction. Nero was utterly overwhelmed by him.”

“No way… That cheating harlot! Why the hell does _she_ have the Holy Grail!? If it wasn’t for her, Saber and I could have… AAAGH! That bitch! That goddamn vixen! When I get my hands on her, I’ll… I’ll…!” Elizabeth screamed in absolute rage and stormed away from the group, wanting to spend some time alone to compose herself.

Nightingale remained calm and asked Robin, “What was the other miscalculation?”

“They had Arjuna on their side.”

“Arjuna? Who is that?” Ituha asked.

Diarmuid told her, “He’s the great hero of the _Mahabharata_ , and one of the world’s most powerful Archer-class Servants.”

“But I thought Lord Karna was the hero of that story.”

“They both are, actually. The original tale depicts them as fierce rivals.”

“I see,” Rama muttered bitterly. “So that explains why Edison has Karna on his side – it’s because Arjuna is with the Celts. Karna intends to continue his battle with Arjuna in this world. Damn, what a glaring oversight. If only I had realized something so obvious sooner…”

Robin let out a depressed sigh, then said, “Billy and Old Man Geronimo were no match for him. He was able to shoot Billy’s bullets as if they were nothing.”

“So that’s how it was. As unfortunate as this is, we must recalculate our strategy now that we know what the enemy’s true capabilities are. Although I am fully healed and we have Diarmuid’s help now, there’s still too great a difference in our power.”

“I’m impressed you were able to escape under such conditions,” the spearman told Robin. “I’d liken it to a miracle, to be honest.”

“Nah, it was no miracle. I actually had help from another Servant.”

* * *

_The previous day…_

“Gah! So persistent!” Robin grunted angrily and shot more arrows at his pursuer.

After Geronimo’s team failed to assassinate Cuchulainn and Medb, the doomed Apache warrior insisted that Robin escape using his No Face May King ability. While he was lucky to get out of there alive, he had to worry about pursuers taking him down. Arjuna led the chase against Robin and managed to catch up to the archer. Unlike Robin’s unrefined style of crossbow shots and poisonous sabotage, Arjuna was a sophisticated marksman with the blessing of the Hindu god of thunder Indra, granting him energized projectiles that could detonate like miniature bombs. Arjuna’s dark skin and hair, along with his bright white coat, was a stark contrast to Robin’s unkempt green attire and messy orange hair.

“I could say the same for you, Faceless King of the Forest,” Arjuna remarked coolly. “As a fellow Archer, your lack of refinement anguishes me. Engrave the elegance of my shot into your soul so that you may remember my lesson in your next life.”

“Argh…!”

Arjuna sent an arrow flying straight for Robin’s back as he was running madly. He thought he wasn’t going to be able to escape it. Then both men heard a loud clash, and Robin fell onto his side from the force of the explosion. He looked up to see a purple-haired woman in a violet bodysuit wielding a long red lance, who was responsible for deflecting Arjuna’s shot. Next to the woman was some masked figure in a white coat and green dress.

“Go on, Anonymous Hunter of the Woods. I shall block the enemy’s passage for you,” the lady told him.

“I don’t know who you are, but I owe you one!”

Robin scrambled to his feet and ran out of the vicinity, while Arjuna landed in front of his new opponent and said, “You’re the Witch of Dun Scaith, Scathach.”

“Indeed. You’re a hero of equal fame, yet your precision is quite disappointing. Like a child tossing sticks around, you put no heart into your attacks,” she grinned.

“Do not speak to me so casually. I take pride in every shot I make.”

“If it’s what you wish, I’ll take you seriously instead. I’ve allowed that young man in green to escape upon my own whim. Since you cannot hope to pursue him, I suggest you withdraw immediately, Awarded Hero of the _Mahabharata_. Not only do I block your way, I also have with me the calamity that wrought devastation upon the Celts – none other than the Wild Child, Fia-Leanbh.”

“Gh… Just because you tell me that doesn’t mean I will back down.”

“No,” they heard Cuchulainn’s resounding voice. He and Medb had caught up to Arjuna, and the Mad King commanded Arjuna, “Stand down. That woman and the child are too much for you to handle.”

The archer hesitated. The corrupted spearman snapped, “Let me make it clearer for you then – you’re in the way. If you’re just going to stand around like an idiot, you’ll get caught in the crossfire. Or is it that you intend to hold me back? Do I have to destroy you myself?”

“No, sir. I shall stand down.”

The dark-skinned man leapt away from the scene, allowing Cuchulainn to confront his former mentor. Scathach smiled, “Listening to others is a virtue – something which you were never good at, Setanta.”

“Ugh… First Fergus, now you. Stop calling me by that name. I get a headache every time I hear it.”

“That’s what I should be saying. Do not show such disrespect toward your instructor.”

“Whatever. So you intend to be my enemy? Have you recruited Connla in your resistance against me?”

“Do I need to answer that? Unlike you, Connla was always a good disciple. Even when afflicted with Madness Enhancement, she’ll still follow my instructions.”

“What are you talking about?” Medb wondered. “That’s Fia-Leanbh, isn’t it? Why are you both calling her Connie?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Cuchulainn scowled. “Connla and Fia are the same person.”

“Then the one who caused you such grave injuries-!”

“Yeah. It was Connla.”

“You’ve got to be kidding! Why would Connie do this to her own father!? Why has she suddenly become a Berserker!?”

“Be quiet. You’re being a nuisance.”

Medb immediately silenced herself and stepped back to allow Cuchulainn’s conversation to continue. Scathach remarked in a scathing tone, “Although Connla has lost her mind the same way you have, I will forgive it since she never asked for any of this to happen. On the other hand, I cannot endure to gaze upon the self-centered fool that you have become. I ought to take your head out of a teacher’s kindness to her student. Whatever has possessed you to become such a rabid dog who has the gall to call himself a king?”

“I’ll only answer if you explain why Connla’s mind has been reduced to that of a wild animal’s.”

“Heh. Not going to answer, I see. I should commend you for maintaining enough sanity to think of her welfare. It’s too bad that your reign of terror claimed your child’s innocence, and you were none the wiser about it.”

“…”

“Perhaps the only way I can make your understand her pain is through combat. Saying that though, the circumstances will not permit us to cross blades in an honest match. Although I must protect that boy’s escape, I also have Connla to provide support. I could always order her to tear apart that burden you call a queen while you and I are busy. Given how badly injured you were fighting Connla before, I dare say that Medb wouldn’t stand a chance. So what will it be, O King of Destruction? Throw away everything and lessen your burden?”

“Give me a break. You don’t even need Connla’s help to take Medb out,” Cuchulainn retorted.

“Naturally. That woman offends my senses. The only way I’ll feel better is if I gouge her black heart out with the greatest stab of my life,” Scathach’s smile reeked of animosity.

“Hmph… Fine, we won’t fight here. The two of you should get out of my sight immediately. It’d be nice if you were killed off elsewhere so I can take my time settling the score with Connla. She is the entire reason I have committed myself to ruining this land. If she doesn’t agree with my plan, then she should face me in the battle of her life.”

“My duty is to protect her. To that end, I will euthanize you with everything I have so it does not come to that. It’s my final pupil’s reward for being such a good learner.”

With that, Scathach conjured a Shield Rune to transport herself and Fia out of the area. Cuchulainn growled beneath his breath, thinking of the young Berserker who only remained by his mentor’s side in silence.

“Not going after them?” Medb asked.

“That woman is not someone who will go down so easily. If I’m to fight her, it’ll be when there is no one left for me to kill except her and Connla.”

“So Connie really has become a wild beast…”

“What’s wrong? You enjoy seeing me like that. Why not her?”

“Well… I suppose I should like it. But then again…”

She became pensive, unsure of how to explain her feelings to him. He grumbled, “Whatever. We’re going back to Washington. The next time we face them, it will truly be the final battle.”

Medb giggled. “I can’t wait. Soon, everyone will know the terror of rebelling against the Eternal King of Destruction.”


	11. One Strike, Two Halves

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 11: One Strike, Two Halves**

“So Lady Scathach assisted you in your escape,” Diarmuid said to Robin.

“How do you know who that woman was?” the archer wondered.

“That’s because-“

“He’s my partner in searching for Connla’s divided Spirit Origins.”

A familiar lady’s voice broke through their conversation, and everyone turned around to find Scathach standing nearby, with Fia-Leanbh squatting next to her. Rama widened his eyes and remarked, “So you’re Scathach, the guardian of the Land of Shadows and Cuchulainn’s mentor. As for that child, I presume she is…?”

“Correct. You may have heard of her as the Wild Child who had been slaughtering the Celtic soldiers.”

“Fia-Leanbh!? You’re saying she’s Connla’s other half!?”

“Looks like Diarmuid filled you in on everything. That makes things easier for me. Now then, where is the other Connla?”

“Um…” Ituha murmured and nervously approached the warrior woman.

Scathach kneeled in front of her to inspect her features, then said, “Yes, this is the half of Connla possessing all of her reason and sanity. I want to extend my appreciation to you all for taking care of her while I was preoccupied with finding Fia.”

“It is a nurse’s duty to care for their patient to the fullest. I deserve no such thanks,” Nightingale said. “I understand that you possess the ability to help Ituha regain her memories.”

“I do. With both halves reunited, I can reconstitute Connla’s original Spirit Origin and meld them back together… Is what I’d like to say.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Based on my examination of their Spirit Origins, it seems their desire to remain as separate individuals is growing stronger the longer they remain apart. Or perhaps the original Connla refuses to return as a whole, and is keeping herself separate on purpose. Either way, if neither of them are willing to cooperate with the reconstitution process, it will be impossible for me to restore the original Heroic Spirit, and she will ‘die’ in the truest sense.”

“That’s not good. I’ve committed myself fully to curing Ituha of her amnesia.”

Scathach sighed. “I can tell that you’re determined, but psychological care is far more delicate than physical treatment. We shouldn’t force Connla into making one choice or the other. She needs to decide if she wants to maintain her dual existences as an Archer and Berserker, or to reunite as a Lancer and regain all of the memories of her bitter past that tore her asunder in the first place.”

Rama said, “You say that, but you went through a lot of trouble to try and bring her back together. Do you need the original Connla for something?”

The warrior woman closed her eyes, then replied, “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I have a strong suspicion that I will not be able to defeat _that_ Cuchulainn in battle.”

“Are you kidding!? You’re his mentor, and even you don’t think you can win!?”

“I know, it’s quite irritating, but that is the truth. Medb wished for Cuchulainn to be a wicked warrior king, creating a cursed version of him who is constantly in pain and searching for someone to end his misery. Until the end comes for him, he will live as a terrible entity who seeks the death of everyone around him. There’s only one person who can free his soul from the shackles that Medb bound him to.”

“You believe it’s his daughter?”

“I don’t just believe it – I know it. If Connla hadn’t materialized in this world, Cuchulainn would have lived a nihilistic life. With her around though, a small part of his kinder nature awakened to the suffering she endured at her mother’s hand. He sees her pain as a part of his own, and he wants to give her a peaceful world so she doesn’t experience such sadness anymore. That’s the key we need to defeat him once and for all.”

“Sounds like you’re utilizing that as a weakness to exploit.”

“Not necessarily. I strongly believe the world summoned her specifically to bring him down. I want to do my part to make sure that becomes a reality. It’ll be extremely difficult if Connla remains divided like this though. Depending on her ultimate choice, we’ll need to adjust our strategy accordingly.”

Ituha listened to Scathach’s explanation while approaching the silent Fia. The two girls stared at each other for a long while. Ituha couldn’t see Fia’s face behind the mask, but she suspected that her features would be identical. They felt like long-lost twins reuniting, but not quite due to how different their personalities were.

“So… you’re Fia?” Ituha asked.

“…”

“You can’t talk, can you? Is it because I have all of your rationality?”

“…”

“I don’t know why, but… Even though we just met, I feel so much safer with you around. All this time, I always felt like I had a hole in my spirit. I’m sure you felt the same way too, right?”

Fia put her hand upon Ituha’s palm like how a dog would shake its paw with its owner. The Archer murmured, “Let’s stick together, okay? We still have a lot of fighting to do if we’re going to save everyone.”

The Berserker nodded quietly.

As everyone was deciding on how to proceed from here, they heard some commotion coming from outside the camp. Rama stood up and asked a passing Resistance soldier, “What’s going on?”

“We’re being ambushed by Celtic soldiers and monsters!”

“Damn it!”

“They must have followed me here,” Robin said. “No choice but to wipe them out.”

Diarmuid said to Ituha, “Stay behind me at all times, all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Nightingale and Fia wasted no time charging into the battlefield together, where they saw the soldiers fighting for their lives against some Celts. The Servants figured they could handle human opponents, but the chimeras and wyverns would be a different story. Fia performed several gymnastics flips towards a chimera’s head, then hopped high above moments before it breathed poisonous gas at her. She thrust her wooden lance down and pierced it through the monster’s cranium. Nightingale rammed her fist against the other heads, knocking them out before firing some bullets to kill them.

“Disgusting, disgusting, _disgusting!_ ” the nurse raged in irritation. “If Medb is going to summon anything, she should at least make sure they’re clean first!”

Fia didn’t care about Nightingale’s complaints and continued towards a band of incoming Celtic warriors. Rama, Robin and Elizabeth were already killing them one by one, but they would have been overwhelmed had Fia not joined in the fray. Nightingale found another chimera and started beating it up. The snake-headed tail opened its mouth and shot a bolt of energy at her chest, knocking her off her feet. Scathach rushed in and summoned multiple thin Gae Bolgs, then shot them like lasers at the creature’s midsection, puncturing its flesh and organs numerous times to destroy it.

Scathach chuckled, “Heh heh. You’re certainly taking it easy, worrying about cleanliness over keeping your skin intact.”

“Every microcosm of bacteria must be eliminated before it can take root and start spreading!” Nightingale exclaimed.

“While your nomenclature leaves much to be desired, I can appreciate your enthusiasm.”

Meanwhile, Diarmuid and Ituha ran towards a pack of wyverns that were flying toward the chaos. The child Archer began slinging enchanted stones at the ones in front, detonating like TNT and forcing some of the dragons to fall to the ground. Diarmuid immediately slew them by jabbing his spears through their necks to slice their arteries, then left them to bleed out while leaping to intercept some flying dragons that Ituha missed.

* * *

Atop a cliff side overlooking the chaotic battle, a red-haired fellow wearing traditional Chinese martial arts clothing observed the frenzy with keen interest. He slid his hand up and down his qiang, feeling his urge to wage a fierce battle overcome his senses. An eager smile crept on his lips as he gauged each Servant’s combat abilities, trying to see who would be the most worthy challenge for him. His eyes fell upon Scathach as she expertly cut down two wyverns with one clean stroke.

_Oh? Isn’t that the ruler of the Land of Shadows? My, my, I never thought such an opportunity would present itself to me so easily._

He looked over to the distance and saw some shadowy figures coming in to ambush the Servants.

_Hmph. Looks like the enemy prefers numbers over calling forth someone of high caliber. Such a shame that the Holy Grail is being used to summon such wastrels._

He jumped over the cliff and slid down the embankment as if the dirt was mere ice to him.

* * *

“Agh! This is getting annoying!” Robin yelled at he shot some crossbow arrows at a druid’s chest, piercing their heart.

“Tell me about it!” Elizabeth exclaimed, jabbing her spear through a wyvern’s head. “Idols with a reputation for drawing in rowdy crowds are not good for business! I have to maintain a squeaky clean image until I turn 18!”

“Less complaining, more fighting!” Rama rebuked, chopping up a small group of warriors. Fia jumped over a spearman’s lance, landed on the pole, then hopped before delivering a strong roundhouse kick to their face. Rama immediately stabbed them to death, then cleaved through a swordsman’s armor like a knife through water. Fia looked over to find the shadowy humanoids rushing toward them, so she barged at them first to hopefully keep them back long enough.

“Fia!” Ituha exclaimed and ran toward her other self. Diarmuid followed her and assisted Fia in beating up the shadows.

“Kgh!” he grunted, resisting an unidentified warrior’s sword. “These ones are strong!”

“It’s no wonder,” Scathach said while vaulting in and slicing a figure through the middle. “These are Shadow Servants – Heroic Spirits who are just one step away from being complete Servants. It could be the result of a botched summoning, or that their Spirit Origins are not well-defined enough. They have the power of a Servant, but no conscience worth speaking of.”

Ituha fired as many stones as she could at the malevolent silhouettes, but she didn’t seem to be having much luck against a particular Lancer-class shadow. They batted her projectiles aside and rushed at her. Diarmuid yelled in horror and tried to rescue her, but he wouldn’t be able to reach her in time.

“KAH!”

The red-haired Chinese warrior jabbed his qiang through the shadow’s head, killing them instantly and reducing them to black soot. Ituha looked up at the newcomer in surprise as he stood in front of her and remarked, “Your technique is sloppy, young lady. I suggest you stay back and leave this to the professionals.”

“S-Sure…”

“Thank you for saving her,” Diarmuid said as he rejoined Ituha’s side. “Who might you be?”

“Just a passing Lancer. My True Name’s Li Shuwen.”

“Oh, the Divine Spear himself! I’m honored to fight alongside you!”

“Save the chivalry for another time, lad! Stay focused!”

The two men countered more Shadow Servants, while Nightingale joined the group and beat up an unidentified Berserker on her own. Although a small army of shadows had converged upon the Servants, they weren’t powerful enough to rival proper Heroic Spirits. No one had anticipated Li’s arrival either, but one had to remember that the world was still occasionally summoning Servants as the ‘antibodies’ to fight against the ‘disease’ still running rampant.

It wouldn’t take long for the heroes to destroy the last of the Celtic invaders. No enemy was left alive to retreat, so there wasn’t any fear of Medb learning where the Servants were located for now. All of the dead monsters evaporated into dark ether that dissipated into nothing.

“Phew,” Elizabeth sighed in relief and twirled her spear around lazily. “More pigs for the abattoir.”

Scathach stared at Li and muttered, “Impressive. That kind of technique can only be attained through years of hellish training and possessing innate talent. You said your name was Li Shuwen, the undefeated martial artist who claims to only strike his opponents once, am I correct?”

“Indeed,” he replied.

“Excellent. You would make for a spectacular playth- I mean, worthy opponent.”

“Well said. Ever since I laid my eyes upon you, a storm has been raging inside me. It will not be quelled unless I challenge you! Grant me this rare honor of dueling you, Witch of Dun Scaith!”

“Yikes,” Elizabeth cringed. “Worst pick-up line _ever_.”

“Now hold on,” Scathach grinned. “I think this would be a valuable opportunity for you to witness my capabilities as a teacher first. As an infamous instructor yourself, wouldn’t you like to see how well one of my pupils fares against you before taking on their mentor?”

“Hm… I must admit, I am rather curious to see how strong one of your trainees is. Alas, though the prospect is interesting, I fear I might cause unnecessary harm to such a poor soul with my unrelenting strike of death. It won’t be long before I overcome them and face you directly.”

“Don’t try to bite a bullet before the gun is fired. You would be foolish to make such an assumption about my students. I handpick and forge only the finest of warriors. I wouldn’t offer them to be your opponent if I doubted their capabilities.”

“How true. Then show me your student immediately. Your most famous pupil was Cuchulainn, but he is presently unavailable for this showdown. Who else do you have to offer me?”

“These two,” Scathach said, patting her hands against Ituha and Fia’s backs to push them in front of her.

Li appeared incredibly displeased with the idea of fighting children. Diarmuid also objected, “Lady Scathach! What in the world are you doing!?”

“Isn’t it obvious? They’ve only met just now, so I need to gauge their abilities when working together as a cohesive unit. If my theory holds true, they should be able to make up for the loss of the original Heroic Spirit.”

“Yes, but-!”

“Give it up, Diarmuid. If Master Li had not shown up, I would have put them through the gamut myself.”

“L-Lady Scathach…?” Ituha asked nervously. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Are you implying that you trained me before?”

“Ah, that’s right – you don’t remember being under my tutelage in life. Don’t worry; even if you have forgotten everything, you body will recall the movements on its own. As for Fia, I’m sure she’ll give our martial artist a run for his money. In the event that you lose however, Li Shuwen, I demand that you be gone immediately. We have no time to accommodate your selfish desires.”

“Heh heh!” Li chuckled. “I understand! I must not be deceived by faces. Ituha and Fia, yes? I challenge you both to a duel! The rest of you, do not interfere!”

Ituha grew nervous from hearing such an intense declaration, while Fia perked up and was ready at a moment’s notice, sensing the man’s immense battle aura. The Archer moaned, “But there’s no reason for us to fight…”

“I am confronting you as an enemy. Isn’t that enough?”

“Well… I guess.”

“Good, good. At least you pass the test of good judgment. If you don’t treat me as such, you will both die.”

The two child Servants were prepared for battle, and Li got into position. Everyone else stood back and allowed the fighters plenty of space. Li focused primarily on Fia since he could tell she was the better fighter, and the young Berserker understood his intention from the sharp look in his black eyes. The hairs on her skin prickled to life, and she became too excited to tolerate the pressure anymore. She charged in low and attempted to swipe at Li’s midsection, but he nimbly stepped aside and thrust his qiang at her head numerous times. She dodged each strike with amazing agility, innately reading the wind surrounding his vicious stabs. When she found an opportunity, she got on her hands and twirled her legs about like a break dancer, slamming her ankle against his fingers so he lost his grip momentarily.

 _Not bad,_ Li thought, grinning at Fia’s reflexes. _She analyzes the air and reacts to any slight disturbance, all without making a sound of her own. It’d be difficult to assume that a Berserker like her could utilize Presence Concealment, but there is potential. If she could funnel out any noise she makes, she could mimic as an Assassin._

Although he was fumbling with his weapon, he still had his other hand available. Without hesitation, he smacked his palm against Fia’s chest, slamming her backwards. Ituha took over and fired numerous stones at Li. He swung and sliced about to either dodge or parry them. A couple of rocks grazed his upper arm, tearing through his clothes and skin.

_This one’s not a fighter by any means, but the strength she uses to power her slingshot is quite unusual. Then again, it’s possible that she’s using Celtic Runecraft to enhance her might and accuracy. On top of that…_

He ducked his head aside to avoid having his face be blown off by an explosive stone that Ituha shot.

_She’s turning those rocks into fiery projectiles that can immolate the enemy. I see, so she needs to use magic like a Caster would to compensate for her lack of martial prowess. It’s almost like I’m fighting against four classes at the same time. Just as I expected, such diversity is the way Scathach teaches her students to adapt to any situation._

While Li was preoccupied with analyzing the girls’ combat abilities, Fia vaulted back to her feet and charged at him once more. Since he understood how her wind-related talents operated, he had to pay close attention to her so she couldn’t sneak up on him. Luckily, he had the advantage in raw strength and swung at her shoulder, batting her aside and taking chase while she tumbled. As Fia rolled about, Ituha sent more stones flying at Li while he was running, but he was too fast for her to snipe down. Fia got on all fours and slipped aside just as Li whipped his qiang at the ground with a sharp cracking sound, narrowly missing her.

Fia leapt and somersaulted several times to gain momentum, then slammed her spear over Li’s head. He raised his weapon to block it, but glanced back and noticed Ituha conjuring a fireball. He shoved Fia off him and flipped away moments before Ituha tried to shoot at his backside. The spell missed both Li and Fia, who was safely above it, and exploded harmlessly. Fia landed and dashed at Li to clash in a flurry of lances once more.

“Got you!” he shouted and aimed just right to hit a weak spot in Fia’s wooden spear, cracking it apart into useless fragments. The Berserker didn’t seem too bothered, instead using her freed hands to snatch his weapon and throw him forward when he wasn’t expecting it. His powerful forward momentum made him stumble off-kilter, and Ituha finally scored a hit when she threw another blazing orb at his back. He flew several feet and smashed face-first onto the dirt. Despite the terrible friction wounds and burning sores on his skin, he flipped forth to get back on his feet as quickly as possible.

Li caught sight of Fia dashing back and forth in an unusual pattern while the wind picked up around her. She raised her hand out and drew the Rune known as Ken, the symbol of knowledge breaking open the darkness, or the winds of change bringing on a new day. The sigil was engulfed in a small tornado around her hand that emulated an invisible spear. This wasn’t Artoria Pendragon’s Invisible Air ability that cloaked her sword Excalibur in high pressure air to protect her identity. Rather, this was an imaginary polearm made entirely of shearing winds that could rip apart flesh, but took up a considerable amount of mana to maintain. The magic weapon was so deadly that Fia had to cover her own hand in a protection Rune to keep her limb intact.

_A wind lance!?_

Li did not expect Fia to know any magic like Ituha did. She thrust the miniature tornado at him, and the powerful gusts toppled him back to the ground. He tried to get back up, but he was suddenly face-to-face with Ituha’s palm. Between them was the Ansuz Rune she had been using to cast her fire spells.

“Make one wrong move, and you’ll be burned alive,” she warned him with an unusual fierceness.

“Fascinating. But if you use it right here and now, you’ll be caught in the inferno as well.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve coated myself in spells that will keep me safe. I doubt I can say the same for you, sir.”

Li clenched his teeth, astonished with how well-prepared she was. Then he raised his hands and declared, “All right, you’ve both won this contest.”

The girls weren’t convinced with his surrender and remained on high alert. He appreciated their cautiousness, so he slowly stood back up while keeping his hands exposed. Just to make sure, Ituha kicked his qiang aside.

“That’s enough,” Scathach announced. “Cancel your spell, Ituha. He has given up.”

The Archer mumbled in acknowledgement and made the Ansuz sigil disappear. Fia no longer detected Li’s urge for battle and relaxed her nerves, dispelling her Ken Rune at the same time. He put his hands down and remarked, “You are no ordinary children. Although Scathach claims you both just met, you fight in such harmonious tandem that I would have believed you knew each other for years.”

“Just as I expected,” Scathach smiled. “Despite her youthful age, she is one of my best students. Perhaps not as famous as Cuchulainn, but with enough time and training, she could rival him.”

“Oh? I see two Servants, yet you speak of her as one.”

“Her Spirit Origin split after she experienced some severe trauma. Regardless, both of them share the same True Name – Connla, the Child of Cuchulainn.”

“Interesting. I wasn’t aware that the Child of Light had a scion.”

“He does. With that said, since you were not able to defeat my student, you are thus unable to fulfill your end of the deal.”

“No. I actually wish to rescind my previous request. I will not interfere with your cause, and will not ally with the Celts either. After all, it would be problematic for us to have our duel when there is no stage to take it upon. Therefore, I ask if you would accept my challenge to fight you at the very end, regardless if this world is saved or not.”

“Very well, I shall accept that condition. I cannot make any promises if I survive for that time to come.”

“I have confidence that you will not die so easily.”

Li looked around at the heroes as they were gathering around, then said, “By the way, there is something I want to mention. I first appeared in Denver and spoke with the so-called Presi-King Edison. This is nothing more than my own conjecture, but I believe the man is not in his right mind. Something seems to be possessing him, and he will not listen to rationality until he has been knocked back to his senses. How ironic, considering that he believes he is the paragon of sensibility and reason.”

“So you noticed it too,” Nightingale said. “I share in your hypothesis. If that is the case, then I must attend to my patient immediately.”

“Huh?” Ituha looked up at her.

“No, not you. I’m talking about Edison. When I met that man personally, I could tell that his nature was much too foreign for him to be the King of Inventions.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Then what do you picture Edison as?”

“Hmm… A middle-aged man in a black suit and bowtie?”

“Sorry to say, but you’re way off the mark,” the nurse narrowed her eyes. “He has the head of a white lion, and wears a blue bodysuit adorned with a red mantle. He looks no different than a superhero from one of those printed magazines that children enjoy.”

“You’re kidding,” Ituha murmured, astounded that the Western forces’ leader looked so bizarre.

“I believe his abnormal appearance and irrational personality are the result of an illness. I want to return to Denver and see about treating him.”

Rama raised an eyebrow and muttered, “You want to go back there even though he had you imprisoned for insubordination earlier?”

“What is there to think about? Although my top priority is the treatment of this nation, there are many infected areas that need to be dealt with. I am simply targeting the disease that has been allowed to fester for much too long. Nothing short of rendering Edison unconscious with some rigorous anesthesia will correct this problem.”

“Well, I suppose it’s better than trying to ambush Washington by ourselves again. If we can enlist the Presi-King’s aid, we’ll have a much greater advantage in the number of Servants.”

“I agree,” Diarmuid said. “Lord Fergus and Lord Fionn are gone. The Celts only have Cuchulainn, Medb, Arjuna and Beowulf on their side, but they also have the Holy Grail to make up for their shortfall. Thanks to that previous skirmish, we now know what the queen is capable of summoning.”

“Beowulf aside, we absolutely need Karna’s help to fend off Arjuna,” Rama said.

“Then our next destination is clear,” Scathach agreed. “We must get Edison’s cooperation, even if it means using brute force to make him understand.”

Ituha glanced at Li and asked, “Are you going to be helping us?”

“No, I’m afraid that won’t be an option. I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t attack you again. As I have been summoned in my prime, I am a dangerous man detached from society who seeks nothing but good challenges. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I see. I just hope you won’t join the Celts.”

“Don’t worry, I am not so barbaric as to raise my spear in the name of pointless carnage. When the time comes, I shall appear again to assist you all. Until then, I bid you all farewell.”

With that, Li Shuwen departed without looking back. Likewise, the group of Servants turned northward and headed straight for Denver. Diarmuid sighed in relief and said, “I’m so glad you’re not hurt, Miss Ituha. That goes for you too, Miss Fia. That fight brought me back to the days when I trained the princess back at the White House. I could see her lithe form and quiet elegance in both of you.”

“Really?” the Archer wondered. “I still don’t understand a lot of things about my combat style, but it’s like instinct takes over for me. Oh, that’s right – I wanted to ask Lady Scathach something.”

“What is it?” the woman asked, then remarked, “You don’t have to call me that though. Address me as Teacher, like you used to.”

“Okay then, Teacher… Well, I’m not sure how to describe it, but whenever I got into a battle that got really scary, some magic circles would appear over my wrists, and I would shoot a tremendous wave of fire at the enemy. I beat back Lord Karna and killed Mr. Fergus with it, but I don’t know how to use it on my own, or even what it is in the first place.”

“Do you say any words to go with that attack?”

“Mm. I always shout Coinneal Léimneach, but I don’t understand where those words come from or why they’re effective.”

“’Flickering Candle’, huh? It would seem that you have been inherently using your Noble Phantasm when the situation gets desperate.”

“Noble… Phantasm?”

“Remember my Báthory Erzsébet, or when Rama used Brahmastra?” Elizabeth reminded her. “Think of them as unique super attacks that each Servant can use, and are tied with their legends.”

“But how can I use an attack like that when I don’t know anything about myself?”

Scathach declared, “You may not understand, but I do. Since your abilities as a mage are heightened while as an Archer, you tap into the Rune you’re most familiar with, that being Ansuz, and boost its powers to levels that you can’t accomplish as a Lancer. Fia behaves similarly, but she uses the Ken sigil to increase her agility to superhuman speeds.”

Ituha nodded slightly. “So I’m just fighting the way that’s easiest for me?”

“That’s right. You’ve been attuned to the fire element so that you can hurl stones and fireballs from a distance, while Fia is aligned with the wind element so she can dodge her enemies’ attacks more easily. When you were Connla, those were the two elements I found resonated within you the most, so I made sure to hone that talent further while you were training under me.”

“Okay. I get the reasoning now, but I’m still not sure about using this Noble-thing whenever I want.”

“You don’t have to ‘know’ anything. You just have to ‘feel’, as you have been doing all along. You don’t need to change anything about your behavior.”

“Huh…”

While they were busy talking, the Servants returned to the forests surrounding the United Western States’ capital city. They trudged through, and Ituha looked around forlornly as she remembered when Geronimo found her here. She felt sad that she would never get to see him, Billy and Nero again, but they all knew the risk they were taking with the assassination mission. Their sacrifice gave the survivors crucial information and a heightened sense of caution.

Soon, the group broke through the last trees and stood at the edge of the clearing.

“All right, everyone,” Rama announced. “Since none of you asked to leave from this mission, I take it that we are all in agreement about our current objective.”

Robin muttered, “I’m not exactly the type of guy to work in a team. Even so, I’ll go along with it rather than try to kill Cuchulainn on my own.”

Elizabeth chuckled and said, “You sound rather gloomy, Greenie.”

“How can I not? This Presi-King guy already sounds incompatible for me.”

“Only because he is trapped in someone else’s dream,” Scathach said bitterly. “We must wake him up and make him see the error of his ways.”

“Right,” Rama nodded. “As long as we stand together, we can even defeat Karna.”

“Now then,” Nightingale declared, “let’s get in there and treat the patient without delay.”


	12. Democracy and Domination

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 12: Democracy and Domination**

One of the mechanized infantry patrolling the fortress’ front gates spotted the group of Servants approaching from the forest. They weren’t coming as a horde of combatants, but in a more relaxed fashion. Some robots blocked their path, and the leader commanded, “Halt. State your business.”

“Industry and domination!” Robin exclaimed.

The mech soldier responded in tune, “Industry and domination! Presi-King Edison is the greatest CEO!”

“Yes, he is great! By the way, I am Second Lieutenant Anderson Komadori of the 26th Commando Unit! I have captured one of the Celtic Servants and seek to turn him in for interrogation!”

The bowman presented Diarmuid, who had his wrists bound behind his back. His expression appeared strained as he moaned, “How shameful… To think that I would fall so easily to the might of the Presi-King…”

“Understood and confirmed,” the robot replied. “He matches the data of Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, Knight of Fianna. Excellent work, Lieutenant Komadori. Please proceed through. Industry and-”

“Domination!” Robin shouted. “If you’ll excuse us!”

He took the lead, while the other Servants followed him inside the grand fortress. Once they were safely inside, Robin removed the poorly-tied rope from around Diarmuid’s wrists, and the Lancer flexed his hands – it had been their idea to fool the guards by using him as a captive. While they walked through the spectacular hallways lined with white columns, colorful flags and effigies of Edison everywhere, Ituha whispered to Robin, “Um… What was that strange greeting you were doing just now?”

“It’s the salute among Edison’s troops,” he seethed bitterly. “Believe me, I had to resist throwing up my bile while saying that garbage.”

“For someone who is supposed to represent democracy, he’s got a weird idea of how domination works.”

Rama muttered, “He thinks that citizens coming together for a common purpose is ‘domination’. How foolish. That’s nothing more than commonplace tyranny.”

“Not necessarily,” Scathach said. “He’s doing this not out of vanity, but out of a need to preserve what is left of ‘America’ before the Celts can destroy it. He must have had quite the political potential along with being a genius inventor.”

Nightingale added, “Not only is he fine-tuning everyone and everything to behave the same way, I believe he is administering drugs to suppress emotions like fear and doubt since he has no time to train soldiers properly. It is a frequent tactic that leaders utilize for manipulating their subjects, but I worry of the aftereffects.”

“A doctrine of mass production and united thoughts… The complete opposite of that fool and his Celtic army. They have all become muscle-headed mooks with complete disregard of guarding their rear, operating on the principle of individual thought. It shames me to think that I am part of that same culture.”

Robin looked bothered as he muttered, “Looks like neither side was decent… I shouldn’t have hesitated before. I want to go straight to the target and get this over with.”

“Remember, we’re not here to kill him,” Nightingale reminded him. “We just need to treat him of this mysterious possession plaguing his mind. The method will no doubt be violent, but it is still treatment in the end.”

Just then, another man’s voice spoke with cold, collected calmness, “That won’t be happening today.”

The Servants jolted as they heard footsteps approaching them. There stood Karna, fully intent on blocking their way. He frowned in disappointment and muttered, “I’m amazed that Edison’s mech troops could be fooled by such a simple ploy… But I digress. I am more astounded that you have the nerve to return here, Nightingale.”

“Of course I would come back,” she replied. “Last time, I did not have the necessary staff to assist me. Now I have assembled a competent team of caretakers who shall treat the sickness surrounding you all.”

“Are you implying that I am ill as well?”

“Naturally. You are plagued with selfish desire, not a wish to protect this world. I suggest you go to a remote location and reflect upon your folly for allying with a possessed man.”

“If loyalty can be called a disease, then I admit that I am certainly infected. However, when Edison kneeled before a worthless man such as I and pleaded for my aid, I could not bring myself to refuse. And also… Edison reminds me of an old friend of mine – clever yet foolish, proud yet charitable,” Karna said with a light smile.

“How surprising that you would smile at such a thing.”

“I am as human as you all are. In that case, if you wish to mend my illness, then you must face me with greater might than last time.”

“Hold it,” Scathach declared. She and Rama brandished their weapons as the warrior woman said, “We will be your opponents in this match.”

“We’ll fend him off with everything we’ve got,” Rama said to his comrades. “The rest of you, get going!”

“Right,” Nightingale replied. “My apologies, Karna, but my services are needed elsewhere. I’m sure these two great heroes will be enough to snap you out of your delirium. Let’s go, everyone!”

She guided the other Servants past the trio as they got into their battle stances and prepared to face each other. No sooner did they depart that Rama struck first, swinging his sword about in a harmonious swivel that forced Karna to block him. Scathach jumped up the walls to gain some height above him and hurl Gae Bolg at his back. He pushed Rama away and hopped aside, and the swordsman likewise had to leap back to avoid friendly fire. Scathach retrieved her spear and rushed Karna from the side, but while he lacked her finesse, he was certainly strong enough to beat her away. Rama jumped and tried to decapitate Karna with a mighty downward cleave, but he swung his spear upward to parry. Sparks scattered everywhere like fireworks as Rama glared at the cool-mannered Karna with intense determination.

Suddenly, Karna’s eyes glowed red and fired a beam of concentrated heat at Rama’s chest. The swordsman cried out in pain as he was sent flying all the way across the hall. While he was preoccupied, Scathach slashed her polearm right at Karna’s back. A mighty clashing sound of metal hitting metal reverberated everywhere, and she realized that her otherwise lethal attack did not work on him.

“An absolute defensive Noble Phantasm,” she murmured.

“Correct,” Karna replied. With the strength of dozens of men, he wielded his large lance like a hammer and hurled the blade over Scathach’s head. She had to raise Gae Bolg in both hands and defend against the crushing blow. The ground around her feet sunk from the incredible force, and her arms and legs were wracked with immeasurable pain as she barely blocked Karna’s attack. She sweated and clenched her teeth, ferociously glaring at him. He didn’t return any sort of expression, instead making his eye glow again to shoot her down.

“GAH!” Scathach yelped as she sailed backwards, collapsing onto her back so hard that she flipped onto her front side.

 ** _“Brahmastra!”_** Rama shouted, activating his Noble Phantasm and hurling the bright white halo at Karna. Flames surrounded his lance, and he swung hard to intercept the attack. The ring skidded against his weapon and sprayed sparks everywhere. It was much too powerful for him to counter with ordinary strength, but one had to remember that the Son of the Sun God was no average Servant. He possessed a high level of Divinity that gave him the might needed to withstand a Noble Phantasm, though he wasn’t exactly keen on doing this repeatedly.

Flames engulfed Karna’s form, and he shouted while using his strength to deflect Brahmastra towards the wall, destroying it in a fantastic explosion. He looked rather ragged from the effort he expended, but he wasn’t going to just give up so easily. Rama thought he would be worn down enough to attempt another duel with him, so he rushed at the Lancer and flailed his sword about.

The only thing the calm Karna did was whisper, “O, Agni…”

Faster than a person could blink, a huge orb of fire burst all around him, incinerating everything without remorse. A searing shockwave blew in a circular formation, and Rama was caught completely unaware. His hair and clothes caught on fire, and he was thrown back against the wall so hard that he crashed into the next room over. Scathach was far away enough to avoid the brunt of it, but her somersault became a clumsy tumble down the opposite end of the hallway when the shockwave hit her. When she got back to her feet, she conjured a series of Runes to protect herself from the firestorm.

She stared at the center of the fire orb as it died down. Karna remained standing there, perfectly unscathed and expressionless as ever.

* * *

Nightingale and the others heard the commotion from Karna’s battle in the distance. They even stopped to maintain their balance as they felt the ground shake violently.

“Damn, that’s one skirmish I’m glad not to be a part of,” Robin grumbled.

“Look sharp, Greenie!” Elizabeth shouted. “We’re still in the lion’s den, literally and figuratively speaking!”

“You don’t need to remind me! And stop calling me that!”

“Then does Hoodie work for you?”

“That’s even worse!”

Diarmuid snapped, “Stop bickering, you two! We must all be prepared for combat at a moment’s notice!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Robin muttered.

As they rounded the corner into the mezzanine, everyone came to a sudden halt when they found another Servant obstructing passage. She was the purple-haired young woman who wore a dark leotard and large boots, along with a pair of bulky white sleeves. A small doll resembling Colonel Henry Steel Olcott floated next to her, and she held a grimoire in one of her hands.

“Hold it right there,” the woman raised her hand to stop them. “What is the meaning of this, Florence? Why have you come back so brazenly?”

“You already know why,” Nightingale said.

“Treating Edison of some imaginary illness? I can’t believe you’re still fixated on that.”

“You should have realized it as well, Helena Blavatsky. A woman of your nature should have recognized the problem long ago, yet you’ve turned a blind eye and allowed it to fester.”

“Blavatsky?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “The founder of theosophy and one of the leaders of modern occultism?”

“The very same,” Helena smiled, feeling honored to be recognized so easily.

“That’s weird. Why is someone like you allying with one of the fathers of modern technology?”

“Oh, that’s because he and I knew each other in life. Nothing romantic or anything – we had a strong connection as geniuses of our respective fields.”

Robin muttered, “Geniuses? More like intellectuals detached from reality.”

“What _ever_ do you mean by that?”

“I’ve heard about you and your pursuit of the Lemurian continent, and of your faith in some imaginary Mahatama deity. You’re just as disconnected from the world as Edison is. No wonder you two are so compatible.”

Helena appeared agitated as she declared, “I don’t know how or why I have earned such ire from you, but I will not tolerate anyone badmouthing my life’s work so casually.”

Elizabeth readied her spear and shouted, “If you’re going to get in our way, then I’ll just have to beat you up until you see reason!”

“Reason? From Elizabeth Bathory? Oh, that’s just rich,” the occultist giggled. “All right then. I’ll go along with your charade and humor you for a bit. If Nightingale says I’ve been neglecting Edison’s disease, and if you two find me so detached from reality, I’d love to see how you will be able to cure me of my supposed ignorance.”

“If I may be so bold,” Diarmuid interjected and stepped next to Robin and Elizabeth. “I would like to accompany you both in this battle.”

“Well, well. Look what we have here – a Celt in the hallowed halls of America itself. Nothing is as much of an affront to common decency as inviting the enemy into our fortress.”

“I’d like to argue about how wrong your are of my loyalties, but all I shall say is that my allegiance no longer belongs to the Celtic army. It is to my princess and the friends she made on her journey to resist the Celts’ invasion of this fine nation.”

“Your princess?” Helena wondered as she looked at Ituha and Fia.

“I won’t let anyone lay a finger on her for as long as I live. If she wants to aid Nightingale’s cause, then I will fight for the same reason – to treat you all of the self-centered delusions that have guided you until now.”

“Interesting. Then let’s get started immediately. Show me how wrong my conviction is, or else you shall fade into obscurity along with the legend of the Lemurian continent!”

Nightingale nodded and said, “I’ll leave her to you three then. Ituha, Fia, let us hurry on. We will be the ones responsible for operating on Edison himself.”

“I don’t know how much I can help, but I’ll do my best,” Ituha murmured nervously.

“Don’t worry. Fia and I will be doing most of the treating. Your turn will come up soon enough.”

The trio ran past their allies as they surrounded Helena, preventing her from blocking their passage to the throne room. Helena’s magical tome hovered out of her grip and opened up to a particular page. The text glowed a bright gold and summoned enough energy to fire a potent beam of light at Robin’s group.

“Whoops!” the archer grunted as he and his comrades rolled out of the way. He readied his crossbow and fired several arrows at Helena. She smiled smugly and countered the shots with small lasers from her book.

“Get out of the way!” Elizabeth shouted as she was already descending fast for the occultist, pointing her spear downward.

“Kgh!” Helena grunted while jumping back. She mentally commanded a bunch of small books to sail over the Lancer like a dotted halo, and they opened up to shoot dozens of beams at her. Elizabeth rolled and tumbled away, but her back was struck and she crashed face-first onto the ground. Helena tried to burn her to death with a powerful laser from her primary tome, but Diarmuid caught Elizabeth and got her away from the potent explosion.

Once he made sure his fellow Lancer was safe, he rushed toward Helena with Gae Dearg in front, hoping to nullify her magical capabilities with the spear’s curse. She recognized his tactic and flipped away like a gymnast to dodge his attacks. Without warning, her small Colonel Olcott doll bear-hugged Diarmuid’s face, completely blocking his view.

“Gwah!? Damn it!” he cursed and pried the thing off him.

“Come, stars!” Helena shouted and raised her arm. Multiple books materialized over him and shot energy beams at him from different directions. His body rattled about before a final shot violently threw him onto his back. Helena looked pleased with herself as she gazed at the wounded Lancers. She almost stepped back, but stopped when she felt something beneath her ankle.

“Oh?” she murmured and looked back. Several traps had been laid all over the ground when she wasn’t paying attention. If she had stepped on one, a small needle would have gouged her foot and injected her with deadly poison. She looked around and found the entire floor littered with similar traps.

“How do you like that, missy?” Robin asked. “Not exactly kosher, but I’m not known for fighting fair either.”

“Sabotage, hm? Not bad,” Helena complimented him and stood on the spot calmly.

“You’re surrounded. It’s best you give up and let the banshee nurse treat your boss without a fuss.”

“He he. You don’t seem to understand. I’m not bound to the earth like you are.”

“What are you-?”

“Lemuria slumbers in the seas! The Hierarchy graces the heavens! And I stand upon the earth!”

A strange yellow column of light surrounded her, and she floated straight up as if she lost all semblance of gravity. Robin stared up, then widened his eyes as he saw something truly unusual.

“What the _hell!?_ ” was all he could utter.

He had every right to be stupefied. The reason Helena hovered without a care in the world was due to a silver disc that looked no different than a UFO from outer space. She passed through it and stood atop, boldly grinning down at her opponents.

“By the heavens!” Diarmuid exclaimed.

“Hey! A smarty-pants theologist has no business being so flashy!” Elizabeth shouted angrily.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Helena retorted, then yelled, **_“Sanat Kumara!”_**

The UFO dazzled with streaks of colors, then engulfed the entire team with a ray of concentrated golden light that intensified to pure white. She couldn’t even hear them scream as the deafening cacophony drowned them out.

* * *

The doors to Presi-King Thomas Alva Edison’s throne room swung open, and the three remaining Servants stepped through. Nightingale and Fia weren’t interested in the décor, but Ituha couldn’t resist being amazed by the many patriotic symbols decorating the chamber. Two American flags were crossed over the throne itself, and the room itself was bathed in electric light anomalous of the current time period. Sitting upon the Western States’ highest seat was the contradictory ruler himself – the President of America, and the King of its fledgling citizens.

“Whoa,” Ituha let out a small gasp as she gazed at his features. Nightingale was right about him appearing as some humanoid chimera, having the body of a human and the face of a white lion. It didn’t match the image she had of him as an ordinary gentleman.

“Grrrgh…” Edison’s restrained grumble sounded just like a lion’s purring. “How could you…? How could you give in to the Celts so easily?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nightingale rebuked plainly.

“I heard about your foiled assassination plot. Normally the Celts would never allow anyone outside their circle to live, yet here you are, standing before me as the enemy. The only logical conclusion I can come to is that you surrendered to them to save yourselves, and are now doing their dirty work of assassinating _me_ instead!”

“Allying with the Celts? I didn’t think you had a thing for such terrible jokes.”

“That’s not what happened at all, Mr. Presi-King,” Ituha implored.

Edison grew curious as he glanced at the child. His anger seemed to subside as he said, “Mr. Presi-King? Hmm, I like the sound of that. For an enemy of the state, you are quite the well-behaved one, little lady. Tell me, what part of my flawless reasoning is incorrect?”

“Well… It’s true that my friends tried to kill Medb and Cuchulainn, but they failed. Even so, not all of us Resistance members went on that mission – we split into two groups because there was something else we had to do at the same time. Robin Hood’s the only survivor of that assassination attempt, and he just barely escaped with his life.”

“Interesting. So what you’re saying is that you were defeated and seek my protection. How laughable, considering that the Angel of Crimea is pointing her gun at me.”

“Don’t compare me to an entity as sweet as fairy floss,” Nightingale snapped, inserting a bullet into her pistol. “I am only a nurse who has triaged your care to be the most vital operation we need right now.”

“Foolishness! What part of me is ill? I have such a strong body, bursting at the seams with good health, and intellect sharp enough to guide an entire country. Every inch of my being is as top quality as can be!”

“Spare me. These young children, despite their inferior physiques and disabled mental faculties, are far more healthy than you are. They are trying to save this world; all you are accomplishing is bringing it to ruin the same way the Celts are. What else is that but an illness that needs to be treated?”

“You’re wrong! My duty is noble and just!”

“But your methods are not!” Ituha exclaimed. “Even if you somehow defeat the Celts, what’s going to happen with your people? You’re giving them drugs and making them work on mass production lines, turning everyone into mindless drones who cannot think for themselves! You might have united everyone through brute force for now, but what’s going to happen with them in the future? Are they going to lose their independence and become reliant upon other despots to guide them? Even if you save America now, the contradiction you’ve created will ruin this country’s course of history anyway!”

“Mmmmrgh…! I… I’m not…”

“There you have it,” Nightingale smiled. “Your diagnosis.”

“Blasphemy! I am not so ignorant as to forget the democratic foundation of this great nation! Who are you to speak to me so bluntly, child? I do not recognize you from my database!” Edison wondered.

The Archer grew nervous. “I’m, um…”

Nightingale replied, “She is the Celtic Princess and Child of Cuchulainn, Connla. Though I say that, she has discarded her heritage and fights to preserve this world’s peace.”

“The Celtic Princess?” the lion-man murmured. “Hmm… Yes, I’ve heard rumors about you. A child who has not even reached eight years old yet, protected by that madman who claims to be her father, and-”

His expression distorted into rage as he pointed at Ituha.

_“The entire reason Cuchulainn is laying waste to this precious nation!”_

“Ah-?” the young Archer gasped sullenly.

“He’s ruining everything so that you will inherit this land, isn’t that right!? Thousands upon thousands of innocent people have died because of you! Now you have the nerve to say you don’t remember anything about your guilt! For shame! My heart aches to see you being such a selfish brat, asking your father to destroy everyone so you can claim this territory without staining your hands with blood! Well your ploy will not fool me! I see you for the little devil that you are! It is my duty to take your head and display it in the name of America’s imminent victory!”

“I… I…” Ituha trembled. Her mind drifted back to what Scathach said before:

_“Cuchulainn sees her pain as a part of his own, and he wants to give her a peaceful world so she doesn’t experience such sadness anymore.”_

She bit her lip to suppress her tears.

_So it’s true… The Mad King really is waging this war for me…_

“Now who’s the rude one?” Nightingale’s bold voice snapped the child back to her senses. “Stop acting like a brat, Edison.”

“Excuse me?” the livid man seethed.

“A proper gentleman like you shouldn’t go so far as to burden one little girl with all of this world’s problems. No matter what her past may be, I will believe in her no matter what. Why else do you think I said she discarded her heritage? She may be my patient, but I also believe she refuses to accept Cuchulainn’s methods for making her happy. Even though she has amnesia, she’s still following her heart and fighting to make sure no one else suffers at his hand.”

“Nonsense! What can a child like her possibly do against the Mad King!?”

“A lot more than you think. She may not be the best fighter around, but she has something that few Servants possess – the ability to save others’ souls with her kindness.”

“Is that so? Too bad such sentiment won’t do much to save us from this war. Nothing except industry and domination will defeat the Celts once and for all!”

Nightingale grinned and said, “Looks like pre-operation procedures are complete. It’s time to move on to the next phase – treating the patient with extreme prejudice.”

“Bring it on!” Edison roared. “You will soon learn the grave mistake you have made of opposing the King of Inventions!”

The light bulbs functioning as his pauldrons flared with electricity, and he spread his arms forth in a confronting gesture. Nightingale and Fia got ready as well, and the nurse told Ituha, “Stick to the plan. Fia and I will take care of subduing him. Hang back, find your opportunity, and take it when you can.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ituha responded.

With that, the two Berserkers charged at Edison together with clenched fists. He cupped his hands to snatch both punches, causing his boots to skid backwards across the red carpet. Fia vaulted onto his shoulder and tried to stab her lance at his face, but he charged his entire body with electricity and shocked both fighters off of him. They felt rattled from the jolting sensation shocking their nerves, but Nightingale scowled and kicked at Edison’s midsection. He bent his arm to use as an impromptu shield, then grabbed her leg and hurled her over his head in an arc, slamming her into the marble flooring.

Edison generated a great amount of electric light onto his chest armor and fired a beam at the fallen woman. Fia caught her partner and jumped out of the way just in time, leaving the laser to explode near the throne. As he celebrated his assumed dominance over them with a proud smile, he was suddenly thrown off his feet from a fireball that Ituha hurled at his back, making him crash face-first upon the ground.

He quickly scrambled to his knees and roared, “Damn you!”

The lion-man moved so fast that one would think he was teleporting. He disappeared out of Ituha’s sight, only to reappear directly behind her. She noticed his towering shadow and looked back in horror as he got ready to punch her. Fia suddenly rocketed at Edison’s chest moments before he could attack however, slamming into him with tremendous strength from her momentum and knocking him away from Ituha.

“You little monster! Who the hell are you!?” he shouted at Fia.

She didn’t respond. She only cared about fighting this human-animal hybrid thing, although Ituha had already ordered her not to kill him. She dodged and danced around Edison’s massive-looking punches, confounding him further with her deft motions. She found her chance to grab his arm and duck back between his legs, causing him to flip off his feet and onto his back. Fia generated a pure wind lance and bashed it on the ground seconds after he teleported out of the way.

“Time for a thorough disinfection!” Nightingale screamed, firing her gun at him. A couple of shots pierced through his shoulder and exited out the other side.

“Shut up, already! I’ve heard enough of your deranged obsession, you low-grade Berserker!” Edison raged with the anger of a thousand demons, and he charged at her.

Their fists rammed into each other with the force of raging bulls, generating small shockwaves each time they struck and damaging the ground around them. Both of them appeared incredibly angry and determined to overcome the other. Not even Fia wanted to interfere with this display of raw power and passion, so she waited for the chaos to settle down. Nightingale screamed like a banshee as she performed multiple kicks to stave away Edison’s flurry of punches, then snatched his fist when he wasn’t expecting it and thrust her other hand against his solar plexus with rocket-like force. He could’ve sworn he felt a rib or two crack, but he maintained his stance while skidding backwards to a stop.

“Khhhgh!” Edison snarled. “Not bad, Florence Nightingale. You really are the headstrong Angel of Crimea… BUT!”

The area around them darkened, and he leapt high out of the trio’s sights. The world around them turned grayscale and gritty like the early days of filming and television.

“Give light equal to everyone! That is the karma that genius is supposed to make!”

The area brightened up, and they found themselves at the base of a tremendous bumper like the 20th Century Fox logo, except the top row had the letters EDI, the second row SON, and the third row 19TH CENTURY plastered all over it as a parody. They could barely see Edison standing atop the D, taking center stage for his bizarre Noble Phantasm.

**_“WORLD FAITH DOMINATION!”_ **

A brilliant rainbow halo expanded all around him and returned the world to color. The intense heat and electricity he generated engulfed the three Servants in a wave of pain, not to mention the loud trumpets that resounded to the man’s glorious image. They were crushed beneath the immense pressure while the ridiculous scene celebrated Edison’s huge ego.

**_“MWA HA HA HAH HAH HAH!”_ **


	13. Western Fellowship

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 13: Western Fellowship**

The flames surrounding Karna subsided, and he looked around to see where his opponents were. He found Rama nearby, badly burned and covered with wounds after using his Curse of Separation skill to survive the fiery onslaught. Karna coldly turned his attention toward the Saber and prepared to strike. He thought that Scathach was out of the battle – he wasn’t expecting her to utilize a series of Runes that rendered her invisible for a short time. With her out of sight, she expected Karna to focus on Rama as a distraction, giving her a chance to ready one of her strongest attacks.

Just before Karna could engage Rama, Scathach summoned a second Gae Bolg in her other hand, then rushed at Karna and lanced him with it before he could figure out what was happening.

“Nghk!” he cringed. It didn’t cause any damage, but small bright red bolts paralyzed his nerves and prevented him from being able to dodge the rest of her Noble Phantasm.

**_“Gae Bolg Alternative!”_ **

Scathach hurled her primary spear at his chest, landing a clean hit that tore through his armor and wracked his body with absolute pain. Due to his high Divinity and impenetrable armor, he was able to avoid the sure-kill curse associated with Gae Bolg, so he only suffered considerable damage. She also had no intent of killing him, so she kept its true effects sealed and only focused on wounding him.

“Gah…” the Son of the Sun gasped and held himself up with his spear. “Amazing… It seems your will to salvage Edison’s mind is the real deal…”

“Was there any doubt?” Scathach asked.

“Perhaps not…”

“Are you surrendering?” Rama demanded.

“I am. If anyone can set that man free, it is you all who fight for everyone in this world equally.”

“We must make haste then,” the warrior woman said. “I have faith that Nightingale and my pupil can do the job, but I would like to provide backup in the worst case scenario.”

“Your pupil?” Karna wondered. “I was under the impression that Cuchulainn was your sole student.”

“That couldn’t be any more wrong. He’s not the only one I’ve mentored - his child is another of my protégés. She might be inexperienced, but she’s certainly nowhere near as foolish as him.”

“Hm…”

* * *

When the lights from Helena’s Noble Phantasm dimmed, she found her three opponents splayed on the ground after enduring the crushing G forces. It hadn’t been enough to kill them yet, but she figured that with them in such a weakened condition, sending them to the dungeons would be an easy task.

“Hmm hm-hm hm hmm…” she hummed a merry tune and hopped off the UFO, clopping her boots upon the solid marble flooring. What she wasn’t expecting was a trap that Robin laid right beneath the flying saucer when she wasn’t looking. He anticipated that she would jump straight back down to that spot, and he carefully prepared a poison trap that she wouldn’t notice.

She accidentally inhaled the venomous mist, and exclaimed, “Ah!? W-When did you-!?”

“You should pay attention to what’s on the ground rather than what’s in the sky,” he smirked.

Robin raised his hand forth and commanded, “Great Tree of Mourning, sharpen your fangs! **_Yew Bow!_** ”

A series of deep roots curled from beneath Helena’s feet and wrapped around her entire body, entombing her in a prison of pure wood. Then the tree rapidly absorbed a great deal of poison that turned the green leaves a sickly purple shade before exploding in a gust of toxic smoke. Since she was already poisoned, the toxins coursing through the tree made her suffer much greater damage than if she was healthy due to her immune system being very weakened.

“Ugh… Kah!” she gasped for air as she collapsed onto her side, unable to move anymore.

Robin stood over her and asked, “Had enough?”

“Ungh… Sorry, Edison… But I can’t… go on…”

“Just the words I wanted to hear.”

“Worry not, Madame Blavatsky,” Diarmuid said, getting back to his feet. “We are not here to kill you. We simply wanted you to open your eyes to the shadows that have taken over your friend, and to not sit idly by watching him suffer anymore.”

“Sitting… idly by…”

“I know what such hesitance is like. I watched my princess endure many hardships without offering my hand for the longest while. I didn’t want you to make that same mistake anymore.”

“I… I mean, it’s not like… I _wanted_ to do nothing about it… I just felt powerless… before such an amazing man…”

Elizabeth grinned, “I kinda get what you mean. My fans are so awestruck by my immense talent that they can’t bring themselves to stop me!”

Robin grumbled, “Just not for the reason you’re thinking of.”

Diarmuid took Helena’s hand and helped her stand back up, while saying, “Nightingale and the princess will treat your friend of his ailments. Then you can tell him everything that’s on your mind once he regains his senses.”

The dejected young woman nodded, silently praying that her friend’s battle would end as well as Diarmuid claimed.

* * *

Similar to Karna and Helena’s area of effect Noble Phantasms, Edison’s ultimate attack caused a great deal of damage to his opponents. Fia and Nightingale stood in front of Ituha to take the brunt for her, and the nurse had to struggle against incredible pain to use her healing skill. Ituha grew extremely worried for her comrades, especially since she didn’t know any curative abilities.

“Hah! How do you like that?” Edison laughed. “My way is one of logic and reason! So long as I remain dedicated to protecting America, I will always be invincible!”

“Logic…? Reason…? I only hear the spurious ramblings of a madman,” Nightingale snapped.

“How unfortunate. I thought you and I could accomplish great things together, but alas, it was not meant to be. Any enemy of Edison is an enemy of America. Any enemy of America is an enemy of Edison. Accept that unshakeable fact and die by my hand, Florence Nightingale!”

As Edison prepared to kill the nurse, Fia suddenly got in his way and stood in a hunched posture. They could hear her labored breathing beneath her mask. They couldn’t see what her expression was, but it had to have been of seething fury.

“Stand aside, bloodhound!” he commanded her with a wave of his arm.

She didn’t obey him and got on all fours. Even though there were no windows to allow wind inside, a potent gust swirled around and caused her to hover a few inches off the ground. The Presi-King stepped back in surprise and demanded, “W-What are you doing!?”

Fia allowed herself to be carried away by the powerful cyclone surrounding her body, and she zig-zagged through the entire room at such speeds that a green streak was left behind. She pounded, slashed at, and tore through Edison’s skin like a bunch of pinballs constantly striking the same target, causing him to stumble about uncontrollably. This was Fia’s Noble Phantasm, Maiseite Gaoithe, through she wasn’t able to speak its True Name like everyone else was. After one last thrashing, she flipped over the stunned Servant and landed, then a burst of winds opened up countless sores on his flesh and rattled him everywhere.

Blood spewed about randomly, and Edison coughed some up while collapsing to his knees. The remaining breezes calmed down, and Fia turned to glare at her fallen foe.

“Unnngh… Kgh! D-Damn… it! Making a… fool… out of me…!” he growled.

“Good work, Fia. The patient has lost the ability to struggle,” Nightingale announced.

“Fool! Don’t… count me out… just yet…!”

“I suppose we should move to phase two of the treatment then. Ituha, if you would please.”

Edison looked over at the red-dressed girl as she drew a Rune in midair, then murmured, _“Constraint gives scant choice. A naked man is chilled by the frost.”_

A pure white fire burst from the symbol and engulfed him as she exclaimed, _“Nauthiz!”_

**_“GAH!? WHAT IS THIS!? AAAAAGH!”_ **

Unlike regular fire, this blaze was harmless to humans and Servants. It only affected the undead and unsent spirits, banishing them from the realm of the living and forcing them to go to the next life. Edison flailed about like he was being burned, but it wasn’t his physical form feeling any damage. The easiest comparison would be like invisible leeches that had been stuck to his soul this whole time suddenly being incinerated, setting him free from their greedy sucking. When the ivory flames settled, Edison fell forward onto the ground and laid there in exhaustion.

Nightingale grinned and said, “Treatment complete.”

The two girls remained on alert as they watched the lion-man struggle to get on his knees. He moaned painfully, “Unnngh… What happened…?”

“How are you feeling?”

“What are you talking about? I’m as defeated as can be! How can I not be angry!?”

“I’m not talking about that. Your soul was not its own – it was being taken over by something beyond human comprehension. Now that Ituha’s cleansing has rid you of that possession, do you feel more like yourself?”

“Mmngh… Now that you mention it, my mind feels a lot clearer now…”

The doors to the throne room opened with a resounding creak. Karna and Helena entered first, along with the Servants who defeated them following behind. Karna narrowed his eyes and said, “Interesting. That foreign anomaly which has plagued your heart is gone. I don’t know how that was accomplished, but your illness is finally cured.”

“You too, Karna? You always believed something was wrong with me?” Edison asked incredulously. “Ridiculous! If I don’t hold my ground here, who is going to protect America!?”

“That’s enough!” Helena moaned sadly. “I can’t take it anymore! I can’t watch you walk this self-destructive path any longer!”

“Helena…?”

“I knew you were suffering. I knew that ‘Thomas Edison’ and the ‘plague affecting Thomas Edison’ had different goals in mind. Both were competing for dominance in your heart, turning you into a Servant that obeyed an unseen power which cared about nothing except for preserving America. If I had to guess what that force was, it had to have been…”

“The system called ‘America’,” Nightingale said. “Since this country is your home turf, you figured you had the advantage because your name is synonymous with cheap, mass production. That is the system which America thrives upon.”

“Of course it does!” Edison retorted. “There’s nothing wrong with it at-!”

“We can’t win.”

“… What?”

“I said we can’t win.”

“Er… Um… B-But that’s…”

The Presi-King was utterly stupefied by the nurse’s blunt statement. She continued, “You thought that productivity was the solution to protecting America, but you were wrong. The Celts are monsters who are born for and die waging war. America did not have such a foundation, so this nation was already falling behind in terms of firepower. Furthermore, Medb has the Holy Grail. What other points do you need to make such a logical conclusion from the onset? Yet you allowed such follies to control who you are and let you get carried away. Even if you ran out of resources, you would be fine with it so long as you claimed victory in the end.

“HOWEVER! Let’s not forget the biggest mistake of them all – your physical form itself!” she raged while pointing at him. “Servants are summoned either in their physical peak, or in a form that represents their core ideals and values! I have not heard of any records indicating that Edison had anything to do with lions! It’s also as impossible for you to possess such immense strength! In other words, not only was your soul polluted by the concept of ‘America’, your body was warped by a power that doesn’t belong to you! Your desire to be a ‘king’ does not originate from you!”

Edison fell silent and closed his eyes in shame. After grumbling for a moment, he admitted, “That’s right. I am Thomas Alva Edison, the Presi-King of America. Past, present, and future, there is only one ruler. The reason you see me like this… is because every President from the first to the most recent loaned me all of their powers.”

“Every President ever?” Ituha wondered.

“Yes. Their logic was that even if they were summoned as individual Servants, they would lose to the Celts. Through America’s principle of ‘unity’, they decided to concentrate their essences into a single American hero who had international fame. That is why I was chosen – I was part of America’s foundation, so it stood to reason that I would serve to preserve it.”

“Hmm… I don’t know… They didn’t feel like mere ‘essences’ to me. When I was purifying them, I could sense an immense amount of grudge coming from them.”

“That was the real illness,” Nightingale said. “They only cared about protecting America, and forced you to turn away from the real problem. That was why you suffered as a Servant, Edison.”

“So I was being controlled by the indignation of so many men…” he murmured.

“Precisely. But you need to understand something; it is not just about America. This entire _world_ is ill. We must fight to heal this entire planet, and to regain our independence from a higher evil threatening to take everything away. We are in an era of rapid collapse, so we must stand firm as one cohesive, global unit to bring forth a new order of ages for future generations, regardless of their nationality or beliefs. In order words, _novus ordo seclorum_. It’s not just a new era for America that we are creating – it is for the entire world. Every choice we make, every action we take, will have long-lasting consequences for our children, so we’d best make them good consequences. That is what’s truly at stake in this war.”

“ _Novus ordo seclorum_ … A new order of the ages… We must revitalize this dying world and usher it into a new era…”

“Yes. That is our job as Servants… No, as the world’s antibodies against the foreign illness trying to destroy everything and everyone we know and love.”

“Hmmgh…”

“You suffered because the grudges of America’s presidents forced you to divert your eyes from the true crisis. That is also why-” Nightingale trailed off as she closed her eyes. Then she glared at Edison and declared, _“You were defeated by your fellow inventor, Nikola Tesla!”_

**_“GAOHOOOOOOOOO!?”_ **

He let out such a terrifying roar that Ituha thought the entire fortress was going to crumble to dust. Fia covered her ears and waited for the awful noise to subside. Then Edison lost consciousness and fell straight onto his back.

Helena cringed, “She actually said it…”

“You could’ve pulled your punches a little,” Karna muttered, looking paler than usual.

“M-Mr. Edison? Are you okay?” Ituha asked as she kneeled next to the convulsing lion-man.

“GAH… GAFUUU…!” he yelped incoherently.

Nightingale remarked casually, “As long as he has a pulse, he’ll be fine."

“I think he just lost a few years of his life though.”

“Never mind that. Tell me, Thomas Edison. Now that you have been cured, what is it that _you_ want to do? What do you, as a Servant summoned to this world, wish to accomplish with the time you have here?”

“Ungh… Mmgh… I-I concede, Florence Nightingale,” he moaned, recovering enough of his senses to speak. He sat back up and said, “The fact that all of America’s presidents loaned me their power thus proves that I wasn’t able to win in the first place. I was lost in an inescapable maze of both logic and foolishness, straying further from my path the longer I remained trapped.”

“Good. To heal sickness, a patient must first admit that he is sick. So long as you have returned to the starting point, it is fine to be lost.”

“It pains me to hear that… All of those sacrifices the citizens made, and I’m only back at the start… Oh, this is too rough for me to bear. What am I supposed to do now?” the man moaned, placing his hand upon his forehead.

“Mr. Edison…” Ituha murmured, feeling his anguish.

Helena stepped up to her dejected friend and declared, “Do what Thomas Edison does best. If you fail 3000 times, you try again at attempt 3001. Your inability to be discouraged by failure caused a lot of trouble for the people around you, but you always found a way to get back up. That iron determination is what defines you at the core, isn’t that right? Your ultimate talent wasn’t your genius – it was your unwavering resolve.”

Edison frowned. “I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult. Even so, thank you for those words, Blavatsky. You really are my good friend. But I cannot deny that I am a coward at heart. The thought of leading a nation is so difficult for me…”

“That’s not true,” Karna said. “Just because you were lost doesn’t mean you weren’t heading in the correct direction. Your inventions shone light and saved countless lives, illuminating humanity out of the barbaric ages into an era of reason and science. Those are qualities you should be extremely proud of. You are not a Heroic Spirit who defeats his enemies, but one who defeats darkness and ignorance through your inventions. You may be at rock bottom now, but remember that hope you gave to everyone and stand back up. You’re not alone in this battle – myself, Blavatsky, Helena, and all of these other Servants will help you.”

“Karna…”

“Come. Show us the gems still buried within that deep mine called your peerless intellect, King of Inventions.”

“Hmm… Yes… **_YES!_** ” Edison shot to his feet, alarming Ituha and knocking her onto her butt. “I may only be a President now, having shed my identity as a King, but I will rise as often as needed! My dream is to bring peace and prosperity to this world, and I will not stop until that happens! Karna! Blavatsky! I apologize for all the trouble I have caused!”

Helena chuckled delightedly. “It’s okay. We’re friends, no matter what.”

“I suppose so,” Karna said with a small smile.

“Hah!” the president laughed. “Friendship is the one thing that raving hysteric can’t beat me in! Ah yes, I must extend my apologies to you all as well, Nightingale and her team of capable Servants! To be honest, I am still uncertain of how to defeat the Celts and save the world, but now that so many brilliant minds have gathered here, I’m sure we can think of a way!”

“Well said,” Scathach grinned lightly. “As a professional in the art of war and how the Celts behave, I will loan my full support.”

“Now that this matter has been resolved, I believe we need some time to recuperate before assembling for our penultimate strategy meeting. I should get to know each of your comrades so I understand their abilities as well, Nightingale.”

* * *

After the Servants rested for two days in guest suites, everyone sat around a large circular table in the conference room, except for Fia who was lying on the floor taking a power nap like a regular canine would. Edison stood at the head of the discussion and declared, “Now then! It is time to brainstorm as if our lives depend on it! Any and all suggestions shall be welcome!”

“Yes, yes! Me, me, me!” Elizabeth raised her hand up like a giddy schoolgirl.

“What is it, Elizabeth?”

“We invade and beat them up!”

“Err… Yes, that is the idea behind this meeting… The question is _how_ we’re going to accomplish that.”

“How, huh? I know! I’ll sing a song to heal their souls!”

Most of the Servants shouted in perfect unison, **_“DENIED!”_**

“Whaaat!? Why not!?”

“Um, Miss Elizabeth?” Ituha murmured in a nervous tone. “In my opinion, I don’t think the Celts have the necessary refinement to appreciate your music.”

“Oh… is that so?” the Lancer muttered dejectedly. “Guess there’s nothing I can do to cure such stupidity.”

Edison rubbed his forehead to relieve the building stress, then said, “Well, this is what we call letting 100 schools of thought contend, hm? In any case, we must reassess the current situation. Here’s the most updated map of our territories.”

He unfurled a map that had colored markings and notes scribbled everywhere. He continued, “Due to the world’s incineration, the Celts will have no choice but to invade westward. They seek to divide their forces between a northern and a southern platoon. If we leave one side unexposed, we will be overwhelmed easily.”

Scathach explained, “This era has only maintained itself because the Celts have not dominated enough territory. Edison’s mech troops were enough to hold them back and preserve this world, but it’s clear that losing too much land will be the condition for defeat in this war. In other words, we have to invade them without losing too much of our territory at the same time.”

“I see,” Edison frowned. “So my efforts were naught more than a stopgap measure…”

“You should be more proud of those efforts,” Nightingale said. “My greatest patient, this world itself, was continuously losing stamina. However, you protected its heart so the contamination would not cause sudden cardiac death.”

“Yes, of course. But at the same time, that was the limit to my capabilities. We know that four Servants will be leading the invading army, and my mechanized infantry will not be enough to stop them.”

Elizabeth chirped in, “They may have four, but look at how many we have!”

“She’s right,” Helena said. “We should analyze their strengths and determine how to counter them. Remember, they have Cuchulainn, Medb, Arjuna and Beowulf. What we have in numbers, they equally have in power as some of the world’s greatest heroes. Let’s not forget the Celtic soldiers who can overwhelm even a Servant if they’re not careful. There are also the monsters and Shadow Servants they throw into the bedlam for good measure. The real clincher is that they can reproduce infinitely.”

“Hmm…” Rama mumbled. “Keeping up with them might be enough for me. Defeating them? Not likely.”

The other Servants were starting to appear downhearted by their odds. Ituha wondered, “Do we have to rely on assassination again? It went terribly last time…”

“Seems like it,” Edison said. “Eliminating the Holy Grail from the equation would be a tremendous help.”

Scathach said, “In that case, a select few of us will go to Washington and kill Medb. Due to the botched attempt however, she’ll no doubt be extremely cautious. If she senses enemy Servants, she’d want to recall her forces to protect herself.”

“Ugh, that really hits home,” Robin moaned.

“Quite the pickle we’re in, wouldn’t you say, Chief Nurse?” Edison asked Nightingale.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t involve myself in military affairs. The only thing I can think of is fighting them head-on rather than trying to ambush them.”

Scathach nodded. “That seems to be the most realistic option we have.”

“Right,” Rama agreed. “We split our forces into North and South Armies, plant mechanized infantry and Servants at one and simply hold the ground. The other army will rush toward Washington. From the distance between the two capitals, the Celts will want to concentrate the bulk of their forces on the north front, meaning our South Army will have to do the assassination.”

Diarmuid said, “There are plenty of Servants here, but not enough to form ‘two equal armies’. Our power distribution is rather uneven, so we must think of balancing the teams very carefully.”

“Then I shall lead the North Army with my infantry and soldiers,” Edison offered.

“I’ll go with you,” Helena said.

Rama said, “I would like to lead the South Army. Cuchulainn has a lot to answer for, and I want to see him pay for it personally.”

“Treating the world’s worst illness starts at the source, namely Washington. Not only that, but I also have a wounded hero that needs treatment. In that vein, I will be accompanying Rama,” Nightingale replied.

“Oh my,” Scathach smiled. “Even when that fool is in such a state, you still think of him as a patient.”

“Hmm…” Ituha murmured. “As much as I would like to help Mr. Edison hold the North Army, something’s telling me to go see Medb. Is it intuition, or something else…?”

Nightingale said, “Perhaps assisting in the assassination will help you recover your memories. Don’t worry, I’m still responsible for your treatment, so I will make sure nothing brings harm to you.”

“Seconded,” Diarmuid declared. “If that is Miss Ituha’s wish, then I will protect her at all costs. Of course, that means Fia will be following her around as well.”

“Then I’ll go with the north. Harassing entire armies with traps is my specialty,” Robin said.

Elizabeth added, “As much as I want to gouge out Cuchulainn’s throat for killing Saber, I’ll leave that honor to you guys while I go with the north guys. That just leaves Scathach and Karna to decide.”

Karna closed his eyes, then murmured, “I must act as a vanguard for when Arjuna appears. Finding him within the fray should not be difficult for me. The problem is fighting him without getting any of you involved in the scuffle.”

“Perhaps you should maintain your stance somewhere in the middle then,” Scathach said. That way the two armies won’t interfere or get hurt.”

“I agree. So then, what will you be doing? I can tell from your expression that you’re intent with acting on your own.”

“So you noticed,” she grinned.

“Why, Teacher? We need you at the front lines,” Ituha asked.

“I need to monitor Cuchulainn and Medb’s actions. I imagine that Medb will not move about much, but that fool is a different matter. If needed, I will hold them down with everything I have.”

“Isn’t that just walking to your death!?” Rama exclaimed.

“Sure, if I was some other Servant, but I am a being that has transcended the concept of ‘death’. Besides, even if I was defeated, it would take days for that to happen.”

“You’re saying that like it’s inevitable…”

“It can’t be helped. War is dirty business, but someone has to do it. If those two make it to the front lines at full power, we will lose. I am merely acting as a dam to hinder their progress, so it will be on all of you to lead the charge. That goes especially for you, Rama. I’m counting on you to keep my young apprentice safe.”

He looked down at the sulking Ituha, then said, “You’ve got it. We’ll destroy Medb if it’s the last thing we do.”

The Archer looked down sadly, unable to shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen to Scathach. Her mentor rested her hand on the child’s shoulder and assured, “Don’t make such a face. I’m willing to act as bait for Cuchulainn so he doesn’t go straight to you. If I didn’t, he would want to find you first and put you out of your misery.”

“Put me out of my misery…?”

“He must’ve realized by now that you were suffering immensely. If he was the normal Cuchulainn, he wouldn’t do something so drastic, but with that foreign appearance and personality he now possesses, I believe he only sees killing you as his way of saving you from his own stupidity. You mustn’t let it come to that.”

“…”

“Listen to me – you need to fight as hard as you can, with all of the strength and smarts you have available, and show him that you’re able to live beyond these dark days that he forced you to endure. You have to prove your willingness to embrace life and fight for your right to live. You must seize the future that you want, rather than give up and accept the future that he wants for you. Do you understand?”

Ituha looked up at Scathach, then nodded. “Yes, Teacher. I’ll do my best.”

“Excellent. Nothing more can be asked of you. You’re not alone, like you were before. You have a lot of friends who will protect you now. Go forward knowing that everyone is on your side.”

“Okay.”


	14. War With No Rules

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 14: War With No Rules**

In the White House’s throne room, a Celtic soldier stood before Cuchulainn and Medb as he made his detailed report of the Western States’ movements.

“So, they’re preparing to divide their forces into two to counter us, hm?” Medb wondered. “My, it’s so tragic to watch them squirm before our unstoppable might. Yet at the same time, I can’t help but feel entertained by their efforts. What about you, Cu?”

“I don’t care about the grunts,” the apathetic king grumbled. “Have you looked into that other matter?”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier said. “Fia-Leanbh is no longer roaming around in our territory. It’s become apparent that Scathach took her to be recruited by the Western forces.”

“So they have Edison, Blavatsky, Karna, Scathach and Connla’s Berserker form.”

“There’s more.”

“How many?”

“Our scouts spotted an orange-haired Saber, a military nurse, the green-garbed Archer who escaped from the assassination attempt, a strange girl in a pink costume, and two defected Celts. One of them is Diarmuid, whom Beowulf claimed killed Sir Fionn at Alcatraz.”

“Diarmuid’s with them!?” Medb yelled angrily. “Why!? Why did he abandon us so easily!?”

Cuchulainn narrowed his eyes and murmured, “It might have something to do with the other Celt. Who is it?”

The warrior explained, “We’re not sure, sir. All I’ve heard is that it’s a young female Archer wearing a velvet red dress.”

“Hmph… I’ve never heard of such a Servant in the previous reports.”

“Even so, it seems Diarmuid is intent on protecting this unknown Archer, which explains his betrayal.”

“Well, that’s fine. Once I have them in my sights, they will all die the same anyway.”

“Hold on a minute!” Medb yelled. “One, two, three, four… They have 11 Servants!? How did they get so many so suddenly!?”

“That _Ramayana_ brat must have survived and assembled them under his leadership,” Cuchulainn surmised. “Then they beat up Edison and forced him to cooperate with them.”

“Oh, dear. So they gave up on surrendering?”

“Seems like it. They have the numbers to hold the ground against our invasion of the west. If my instinct is correct, they’ll concentrate the bulk of their troops to the north and send a strike team from the south to eliminate the Holy Grail.”

“Another attempt on my life? Not very creative, are they? Still, this is an all-out war we’re talking about here, meaning anything could happen. What to do, hm?”

“Hey, you,” the Mad King ordered his subordinate. “Gather all of the troops. We’re marching first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied and departed to spread the message.

Medb asked Cuchulainn, “Are you planning on joining the battlefield?”

“If you want something done, do it yourself. I’ll go south and slaughter the Servants audacious enough to provoke me.”

“He he. They may have insulted you, but it just shows how desperate they are. The spite they emanate when trying to overthrow someone more powerful than them is more exquisite than the finest wine. I’ll utilize my superior resources and station Beowulf to the north, and position Arjuna to the south. So long as their southern strike force falls, it’ll only be a matter of time before we can overwhelm the north.”

“You trust those fools? They don’t exactly have the will to fight on our behalf.”

“Arjuna has a reason to fight, though it is a very personal one. I can imagine that Karna will try to isolate him and keep him occupied. Beowulf is only barely following orders, but he’s only interested in brawling like some low-grade scrapper.”

“That’s why I’ll hold the south down myself,” Cuchulainn said. “Those idiots are too unreliable at this stage. Besides, I have some pressing matters that need attending to. My former mentor is one of them.”

“Scathach, huh? She won’t be easy to take down, even if she’s unfamiliar with your current appearance.”

“Yeah. And then there’s…”

“Connie?”

He fell silent. Medb knew that mentioning Connla’s name was the only thing that would bother the otherwise halfhearted tyrant. After a tense moment, the queen urged, “There’s nothing we can do for her now. The West have her chained and will set her loose on our forces like a rabid dog. The best thing you can do is to kill her.”

“I know. My dream for her is over. It’s best to end her suffering before ruining everything.”

“Very well. Euthanize Connie, then destroy everyone else indiscriminately. Ride forth to your bloody victory, my king.”

Cuchulainn departed without saying another word. Once he was gone, Medb smiled and murmured to herself, “If that’s what the believers of justice and miracles want, then they’re more than welcome to try and kill me. I’ll show them the terror of walking straight into the mouth of a hungry beast.”

* * *

During the evening’s early hours, Ituha had taken Fia for a walk around the fortress before they headed back to their room. Scathach told Ituha to care for her other self like she was a domesticated dog, so she let Fia run around in the courtyard fetching throwing stones to tire her out, then fed her plenty of beef jerky as a snack before they went to bed for the night. This was the last chance they had to rest, so Ituha wanted to make the most of this quiet time.

Fia let out an ungraceful yawn before curling up on the large pillow and dozing off. Ituha sat on the edge of her bed and folded her hands upon her lap, feeling too excited to fall asleep.

_This isn’t good… I have to get some sleep, but I just can’t… Should I ask if there are any sedatives around?_

Before she could get up however, the door to her room opened. Edison, Helena and Karna all stepped through, which surprised the young Archer.

“Ah…? Um, g-good evening…” she stammered. “Can I help you with something?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Helena smiled. “We were getting to know everyone before the battle started. Florence and Scathach told us a bit about the unusual circumstances surrounding you two, but I figured it’d be best to hear it from you personally.”

“Is that so?”

Edison said, “Nightingale told me your name was Connla, right?”

Ituha appeared pensive all of a sudden. “Actually, um… Well, it’s kind of complicated, but…”

“Why don’t you tell us everything yourself?” Helena asked. “Maybe it’ll take the edge off your nerves.”

“I’ll try, but I don’t really understand it myself.”

Ituha told the three Servants everything that happened to her, and introduced Fia as her other half. She added, “Sir Diarmuid told me about how I was responsible for causing that huge hurricane in Ohio.”

“You mean the one that we could see from here? Then _you_ were the Servant whose power I felt resonating before!” Helena exclaimed. “It’s a miracle that you’re still alive after harnessing such tremendous forces! It’s sad to think of how your Spirit Origin was split, but having amnesia should be the least of your problems!”

“I don’t know about that…”

“So you too experienced the depths of despair,” Edison murmured. “Unlike me, surrounded by such trusting friends, you didn’t have anyone to rely on while with the Celts. Such loneliness must have been devastating for a young one such as yourself. Here I was, accusing you of being the entire reason for this war, but now I see that you never wished for any of this and want to show your father how wrong he is. I cannot express my apologies enough for shouting such heartless bile at you.”

“No, that’s fine. You weren’t the same person as you are now.”

“I cannot just easily accept it as ‘fine’, but I’ll promise you this – I will make sure you _never_ experience such tragedy again.”

“Mm,” Ituha mumbled while nodding.

Karna leaned in to get a closer look at the tired girl’s sleepy eyes, then said, “She is worn down enough. She should be able to get some rest now.”

The child Servant frowned, realizing the actual purpose of their visit – to calm her down by being friendly with her. She murmured, “Lord Karna is right. I think I’ll turn in.”

“Good,” Helena said. “Sleep tight. We’ll see each other again in the morning.”

* * *

Bright clear skies greeted everyone in the morning, and the fresh sunshine gave them the energy and courage they needed to face the fierce war ahead of them. Hundreds of Western soldiers, along with thousands of mechanized infantry stood at the ready, waiting for their leaders’ orders. As they planned, the troops were divided into two groups; the much larger North Army, and the smaller but more agile South Army. The Servants were also separated according to what they agreed on before.

“Preparations are complete,” Edison said, taking charge of the North Army. “We’ve assembled as many men and mechs as possible to hold the northern front. However, victory rests entirely with how well the South can maneuver through their front and reach Washington. For that reason, I’ve equipped boosters on your assigned mechs so they can keep up with you and your Servants, Rama.”

“Excellent,” the Saber nodded.

Diarmuid and Ituha were mounted on the same horse, and the Lancer could sense his young master’s anticipation. He asked her, “How are you feeling?”

“V-Very excited… I just want to get this over with as soon as possible.”

“Everyone feels the same way as you.”

Meanwhile, Elizabeth petted Fia’s head and said, “Look here, little puppy! You better take care of your twin sister and avenge Nero for me! Well, you never met Saber, so I guess that doesn’t mean anything to you. But you better not slack off regardless, you hear!?”

Fia had no idea what she was saying, so she just tilted her head and stared blankly at the singer. Robin muttered, “Give it up, missy. She doesn’t understand anyone other than Scathach and Ituha.”

“I know that! I just thought a few good pats on the head would send my message loud and clear!”

Nearby, Helena said to Edison, “I don’t know how well we’ll do with two Casters, but I know I’ll give everything I’ve got. I make sure every job I do is done thoroughly and efficiently.”

“Indeed. We may have strayed before, but at least my mechanized infantry will not go to waste. Alas, we must put such worries behind us. However doubtful or fearful we may be, we must not tarry any longer - it is time we set out immediately. Rama, take care of the South Army for me!”

“Likewise with the North, Edison,” the swordsman replied. “I wish the best for everyone!”

Everyone had a feeling that there would be heavy casualties in this battle, so they said some quick farewells and good lucks to each other before the North Army parted ways. On his steed, Rama raised his sword and shouted to the troops, “Hear me out! This is the decisive battle that will either preserve or destroy not just America, but the entire world! Take back these lands and the future for yourselves! We Servants shall lend our assistance to the fullest!"

All of the soldiers shouted an exuberant war cry simultaneously, then began marching from Denver towards the southern territories of America. The Servants took command on their horses, with Rama ahead of the entire pack. Not too far behind him were Diarmuid and Ituha on another steed, Nightingale and Scathach on ones of their own, and Fia running along so fast that she could outpace the animals. Karna accompanied them halfway before splitting from them and acting as the vanguard in the central states. Soon, Scathach broke off and took her own route in hopes of intercepting Medb and/or Cuchulainn in a safe spot.

 _Teacher…_ Ituha thought worriedly. _I hope she’ll be okay…_

The remaining five Servants remained together as they returned to the towns they had visited previously. They were already familiar with the territory, so it was a matter of maintaining a strong eastern offense that would punch through the Celts’ front line, then they would curve back northward to Washington and finish Medb off.

It took all morning and the majority of the afternoon to pass through the abandoned southern towns until they reached the one where they met Nero. Once they arrived, they could see the first signs of Celtic warriors and monsters approaching from the forests in the east.

The transceiver in Ituha’s hand beeped, and she exclaimed, “There’s a message from Lord Karna!”

 _“We’ve engaged the enemy vanguard,”_ the Lancer reported. _“We’re holding them down, but several are headed your way.”_

“Got it!” Rama replied. “I’ll take the right wing, Nightingale will take the left, while Diarmuid and Ituha will hold the middle ground! Fia, you support whoever you feel is most in danger! We must break through as quickly as possible!”

“Leave it to me!” Diarmuid shouted, and he brought the Archer with him. They broke into their formations and fought the warriors and monsters at full force. No one had time to spare a thought for anything beyond killing one opponent, moving on to the next one, and repeating until all of the enemies were dead.

“Curses…” Rama snarled, cleaving his blade through a spearman’s belly. “They must have figured out that our army is the main force and sent in their elites. Nevertheless, we must stand strong! Show them that we are better!”

“Nothing less from the King of Kosala. Your charisma is what invigorates us all,” Diarmuid grinned, but his jovial attitude turned sour as he glared up at the sky to see several wyverns flying towards them.

“Mech troops, fire at will!” Ituha shouted while slinging magically enchanted stones at the beasts. The robots followed suit with bullet rounds and cannon shells that knocked the dragons either dead or unconscious. As an added bonus, some of their plummeting bodies wound up crushing a few Celts beneath them. Fia and Nightingale eagerly pounced on the survivors while they were trying to recover and killed as many as they could.

“Excellent! Let’s go! GO! GO! GO!” Rama shouted as loudly as he could, and the five Servants charged forth toward the eastern wilderness.

During the intense battle, the afternoon sun began to set, and the sky’s colors changed to a fiery orange that matched the Saber’s vivid amber hair. They barely noticed the change in time as a Western scout reported, “Commander Rama! We’ve confirmed the Celtic army at a point 20 kliks ahead!”

“They’re close,” the Saber grumbled.

“Leading them is a dark-skinned Archer-class Servant in white clothes.”

“That’s Arjuna. Have you told Karna yet?”

“Yes, sir. He has already been notified.”

“Good. Tell all troops not to engage that Servant. No matter what happens, everyone must stay as far away from Karna and Arjuna as possible.”

“Understood!”

The scout departed, and Nightingale said, “Trying to keep the casualties to a minimum, I see.”

“Of course I would,” Rama retorted. “The _Mahabharata_ is literally all about Arjuna, and how he attained victory in every battle he fought. The only thing that can counter a world-class Archer is a world-class Lancer from the same story.”

“Your kind of leadership is one I can get behind. I deplore those despot generals who callously throw away their soldiers’ lives while hiding in their cushy tents.”

“Hah! Guess I’ll take that as a compliment!”

As he said this, the group spotted the next wave of Celtic warriors charging at them. Diarmuid said, “Looks like Arjuna’s sent the small fry our way.”

“All right, everyone! Same strategy as last time! Break through with haste!” Rama commanded.

“Here come the wyverns again!” Ituha exclaimed. “Prepare the Anti-Air Electromagnetic Net Launcher!”

“It’s not just an Electromagnetic Net Launcher, but an Edisonian DC Electromagnetic Net Launcher Mk. II!” a soldier protested.

“I can’t say all of that without biting my tongue! Just fire it already! The mechs and I will handle the ones that slip through!”

“Roger!”

Several men readied the launcher and shot a massive net crackling with electricity into the sky. It entangled about 10 wyverns, shocking them with thousands of volts and causing them to fall all at once. Only about five dragons remained, so it was much easier for Ituha and the mechs to shoot them down.

“I need every bandage we’ve got!” Nightingale shouted.

A Celtic warrior charged at her, and she fired a bullet into his head that killed him immediately. Now that they were suffering some injuries on their side, she prioritized treating the wounded over fighting. Fia had the responsibility of protecting her while she was preoccupied, so the feral child went as wild as her heart desired. She sliced, tore through, and destroyed a good number of warriors plus some mythical monsters on her own. The thick dust that her wind powers kicked up helped to obscure her lithe figure and cause confusion among the enemy ranks. Fia was so fast and clever that she even tricked some men into killing each other while blinded by the smoke.

Nightingale sent some soldiers unfit for combat to the rear, while quickly discharging those with lighter wounds and having them return to the front line. That was when they heard a frightening roar in the distance. The soldiers quivered in fear as they saw a fully grown dragon lumber toward them from the forest. Ituha’s heart raced with sheer panic as she stared up at its serpentine eyes.

_No way…_

She clenched her teeth and stepped back. Her vision started to go blurry, and she thought she would pass out right there.

_Those eyes… I’ve seen them before…!_

“Hey!” Nightingale shouted at her. “Get a hold of yourself!”

“Ah… I-I’m sorry!”

“Don’t worry about engaging that thing. Just focus on defeating what you can.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Meanwhile, Rama and Diarmuid ran toward the monolithic creature, and the Saber snapped, “Damn that queen! Does her wicked imagination know no depths!?”

“It’s not the only one she’s ever summoned before,” the Lancer told him grimly. “There was one other incident back at the White House…”

“Tch! But if this is the enemy’s strongest non-Servant opponent they can offer, it just means we’ll crush it and land a devastating blow to their morale! Let’s do this, Diarmuid!”

“Of course! Once I pierce it with Gae Buidhe, it will only be a matter of time before it bleeds to death!”

“Right. The Yellow Rose of Mortality, the cursed spear that inflicts wounds which cannot be healed by any means. That curse will be our best bet!”

The two men jumped at the same time, and Rama twisted his body to avoid being swallowed whole. He swung his sword at the dragon’s thick hide, cutting through it with some considerable effort. It swiped one of its gargantuan claws at him to knock him aside, but he distracted it long enough for Diarmuid to activate Gae Buidhe’s effects.

“TAKE THIS!” he shouted and cleaved the yellow spear through the dragon’s long neck, severing its carotid artery and causing a tremendous spurt of blood to shoot through the wound. The monster’s death roar was absolutely deafening, but soon enough it slumped onto its side and died from blood loss.

“Are you all right, Rama!?” Diarmuid shouted.

“Hah… Life signature eliminated…” Rama gasped, flexing his tense shoulders after suffering a nasty fall. “I’m fine, but…”

No sooner did he say that, he heard shrill sounds of metal slamming against metal from the central vanguard. He looked over and saw only sparks and flashes of light shooting about everywhere like deadly fireworks. He uttered, “Good grief, what a chaotic battle! Like something ripped straight from mythology!”

“It is difficult to tell, but Karna seems to have a slight advantage,” Nightingale said.

“You can sense that? It’s because Arjuna is fighting in an enclosed space, which is disadvantageous for an Archer. As long as Karna maintains his stance, he’ll be able to-!”

Immediately as Rama said those hopeful words, his expression contorted into frozen shock. Nightingale likewise shared the same horror as him. From amidst the flashing white sparks and lights, a foreign red streak lanced through the air and skewered clean through Karna’s chest. Diarmuid was also astonished. Ituha and Fia had been busy fighting the last of the soldiers and didn’t see the awful spectacle, so they ran up to the adults not knowing what happened.

“What’s going on? Why is everyone gaping like that?” Ituha asked fearfully.

“We… _We have to keep moving!_ ” Rama suddenly screeched. “Don’t look back! Just press onward!”

“What!? Someone tell me what’s going on!”

“No time for that!” Nightingale snapped and scooped Ituha beneath her arm. “To the forest, NOW!”

“Ah!? That’s too tight, Ms. Nightingale!”

“Put up with it!”

“Come along, Miss Fia!” Diarmuid urged the Berserker. She followed him without hesitation, but could sense the incredibly tense atmosphere surrounding everyone.

* * *

Karna’s twisted face of pain nearly mirrored Arjuna’s look of absolute shock and disappointment. Protruding through Karna’s back and out his chest was Gae Bolg. Neither man had ever anticipated that Cuchulainn would interrupt their once-in-a-lifetime duel with such a cowardly tactic.

“Didn’t you know?” the Mad King’s cold voice broke through the stunned silence. “This war has no rules. You have no reason to hate me, Hero of Benefaction.”

“Cu… chul… ainn…!” Karna gasped.

“You bastard!” Arjuna snapped lividly.

“Spare me,” Cuchulainn muttered. “I don’t recall approving a one-on-one fight. I had no hope of you reading the situation, but this is beyond pathetic. Those Servants from the South Army are already on their way to Washington.”

“…”

“Get back to work, Arjuna. Clean up here, while I slaughter those heroes.”

The Archer said nothing. The Berserker didn’t care what his opinion was and looked around the southern battlefront. Before he could take a step though, he felt a surge of energy rising behind him and glared back.

 _“Burn him to ashes! **VASAVI SHAKTI!”**_ Karna screamed.

A massive torrent of fire consumed Cuchulainn entirely and burned anything flammable around him to cinders. Even with his best defenses up, he had a difficult time resisting the intense heat. Parts of his flesh were roasted so badly that his skin sizzled like a grilled steak. He slumped to his knees and covered his smoldering shoulder, using a few quick Runes to try and heal it. He stared at Karna with vicious eyes, but the Lancer had expended all of his strength using his Noble Phantasm and perished. Arjuna was nowhere to be found – he had taken off while Cuchulainn was caught in the inferno.

“One last struggle at the end… No wonder he was a Lancer on par with my stupid younger self,” the king grumbled to himself. “Looks like Arjuna has deserted me too. No matter. Everyone will die all the same. This world has become nothing more than a killing field, where things like rules and loyalties mean nothing. Now then…”

After recovering enough, he turned toward the southeast and charged forth.

* * *

The five Servants raced through the last of the desert wilderness before ducking into the cover of the forest. Night had settled upon them, so they prayed that the darkness would give them an additional chance to escape.

All the while, Ituha kept protesting, “I don’t understand what’s happening! Why does everyone look so pale!?”

“Things just got a lot worse for us!” Rama exclaimed. “I’d know that red lance from anywhere!”

“Red lance!?”

“Yeah! It just claimed Karna as its next victim!”

“B-But if that’s the lance I’m thinking of… then…!”

“That’s right! Scathach failed to keep Cuchulainn at bay long enough!”

Her heart seized with terror, and she sobbed, “Oh no! Teacher! This can’t be happening! Why!? I thought she was unstoppable!”

“I know what you mean,” Diarmuid said sullenly. “I had a tremendous amount of faith in her legendary abilities. I am as mortified as you are about how Cuchulainn could defeat someone as amazing as her so quickly.”

* * *

_Earlier that day…_

**“Gae Bolg!”**

**“Gae Bolg Alternative!”**

The identical Noble Phantasms tore through multiple trees, bushes and blades of grass. Normally, Gae Bolg guaranteed death to its opponent. However, when a second Gae Bolg was used against the first one, the result was a contradiction where both claimed to deliver fatal blows while also evading them. It was an irresolvable paradox that resulted in both attacks canceling each other out, striking the heads of their spears and causing them to explode.

Scathach retrieved her Gae Bolg and grunted. She knew this would be the outcome, but even someone as experienced as her had never witnessed how this phenomenon would turn out. She figured that it was something she would never get to witness again. Despite her astonishment, she took a good look at her former student and remarked, “My, my, look at that right arm of yours. You must be in indescribable pain every time you throw it.”

“More or less,” Cuchulainn muttered, hiding his strained face with an indifferent expression. Just as she said, his throwing arm was covered in countless bleeding sores that gradually healed thanks to his Runes.

“You’re regenerating while being destroyed at the same time. I doubt the term ‘excruciating’ even begins to explain it.”

“This is nothing. If anything, I can finally understand what her pain was like when we fought during our lifetimes.”

“Of course. I imagine that multiple sores would have opened up on her fragile body as well. Both of you use strength that is beyond your control, and you wind up destroying yourselves in the process. Like father, like daughter.”

“Enough,” he snapped, not wanting to talk about Connla anymore. “What about you, my mentor? You look to be in even worse shape than me.”

Scathach closed her eyes. “I can’t help it. The reality is that I’m just buying time. Once upon a time, I dreamed of being killed by you… But that applies to the proud, foolhardy man who defended his country, not to a complete idiot who razes everything in the name of useless destruction.”

“Give me a break. I have no obligation to shoulder any of your burdens.”

“So it would seem. You only have enough tolerance to shoulder your child’s burden, huh?”

“I said stop talking about her!”

“Heh. You completely failed at that, so you’ll just wipe the slate clean because it’s easier than taking care of a child.”

“Are you mocking me?”

The warrior woman smirked. “What else would I be doing? You may act like you care for her, but look what happened.”

Cuchulainn clenched his teeth. “I get it already, woman. She went insane from seeing a bunch of dead bodies, lost control of her Noble Phantasm, and transformed into a Berserker that I must put down.”

“Oh? Is that all you know?”

“What?”

“How foolish. How utterly, completely, thoroughly foolish and ignorant of you. You’re an idiot right down to your bones. This finally proves it – _you know absolutely NOTHING about your daughter!_ ”

The Mad King heard enough. Something inside him _snapped_ , and he glared at her with eyes that would frighten demons.

“You’re starting to remind me of Aife. Time I sent you packing to the same hell that bitch is toiling away in.”

“Fine. I’m done stalling you with questions. Open for me! **_Gate of Skye!_** ”

Scathach smacked the non-lethal end of Gae Bolg onto the ground, and a red ripple spread out from her feet. A massive stone door surrounded by spiked crystal and effigies of monsters appeared in the sky and descended above the warriors.

“Tch!” Cuchulainn snarled. “So that’s your game – using a Noble Phantasm to banish us both to the Land of Shadows!”

“If I can’t defeat you, then I’ll remove you from the playing field.”

“Heh heh. How considerate of you.”

“You have nothing to laugh about, beast!”

“On the contrary. This is nothing more than an ability that transports, rather than kills. Besides, you’re not the only one with a backup Noble Phantasm.”

“What are you-!?”

“Release seal! Come to me, bones of Curruid! Encase me in your carapace of wrath and hatred!”

Scathach had no idea what she was witnessing. Cuchulainn’s form was shrouded behind a hideous cloud of greens, reds and purples. She made the fatal mistake of not moving, allowing him to emerge from the sickly fog and dig one of his massive claws straight into her gut. More thorns and spikes coursed through her, destroying all of her bones and 90% of her organs. She gazed in empty shock at the hideous black armor covering her former pupil, recognizing it from the legendary sea monster.

“Curruid Coinchenn,” Cuchulainn murmured, his face completely obscured beneath the horned ebony helmet. “In order to beat my teacher, I had to use a trick I didn’t learn from her.”

“Y-You’ve… made it… this far…?” she gasped weakly. “That kind… of power… could… destroy the world…”

“I bet it could. It’s exactly what I’m going to be doing.”

“Ungh… I don’t… understand. You enjoyed life… and lived… to your fullest. Why…? Why have you… become… so ugly… and nihilistic…?”

“Ponder that in hell.”

“Y-You’re not going to… send Connla there… are you?”

“No. She’ll go to Emain Ablach, our Celtic equivalent of Avalon. I’ll have the Holy Grail send her soul there so she can no longer be harmed by monsters like us.”

“…”

“Now then, farewell, Scathach. We will never meet again.”

He extracted his claw out of her abdomen, then left her to be sucked into the Gate of Skye Noble Phantasm that was still looming over them. The bones of Curruid vanished off his body, returning him to normal. Without another word, he retrieved his Gae Bolg and walked away from the battlefield, intent on searching for the war zone where his daughter would be.


	15. Cuchulainn's Medicine

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 15: Cuchulainn’s Medicine**

The heroes continued northward along eastern America, passing by Georgia and the Carolinas before reaching halfway through Virginia. They had to stop and fight the occasional pack of Celtic warriors and/or a few strong monsters that scouted them out, but the fighting was nowhere near as intense as back in the war zone. Fia-Leanbh was extremely familiar with the area since it was her former hunting ground, so she guided them through pathways that made it difficult for the enemy to find them.

Ituha was starting to show signs of strain however, so the party decided to take a short rest before moving on. Ever since they breached the forest, a whole day of nonstop running and fighting had passed. The young Archer did her best to keep up without asking for any breaks, but she was reaching her limit of endurance.

She sat on a fallen tree and allowed Nightingale to examine her vitals. The nurse reported, “No signs of fever or disease anywhere. Your leg muscles look rather sore though. If you were in such pain, you should have asked one of us to carry you.”

“I didn’t want to slow anyone down,” Ituha shook her head.

“Nonsense. I carried Rama around everywhere, and he was certainly no burden for me.”

Rama rubbed his forehead and grumbled, “Please don’t remind me of that…”

“It’s no trouble for us to rest a bit,” Diarmuid said. “Let’s have Ms. Nightingale heal Miss Ituha for a couple of hours while we plan our invasion strategy.”

“Good idea. Ever since we saw Gae Bolg, we’ve been running like headless chickens. The fact is, we need a solid plan if we’re going to take on Medb and the Holy Grail. Ituha, can you tell Fia to scout ahead for us?”

“Sure,” the child said and made the request to her other self. Without a word, Fia turned northward and rushed into the forest. It only took seconds for her small form to disappear within the foliage. Rama and Diarmuid gathered some firewood, and Ituha lit up a campfire with her magic so they could relax and warm up.

“So, how are we going to do this?” Rama wondered. “It’s obvious that Medb is expecting the South Army – that is, us – to ambush the White House and try to kill her. The thing is, while our strategy is apparent, I am wondering if she’s aware of which Servants are in each army. Can you tell us anything, Diarmuid?”

“Hmm,” the Lancer pondered. “I am confident that Queen Medb would know how many of us are with Edison, as well as most of our identities.”

“’Most’ of our identities? You mean she doesn’t know everyone?”

“She would obviously know about Edison, Helena and Karna, along with you from when Cuchulainn nearly killed you. Then there’s myself and Scathach, and how we recruited Miss Fia. From my understanding about the failed assassination attempt, she would know about Robin Hood as well.”

“So that leaves Elizabeth, Nightingale and Ituha.”

“Pretty much. She never had any contact with those three Servants.”

Rama glanced over at Nightingale and Ituha. “That means Medb doesn’t know how two of us fight. I’ll bet that goes double with Ituha since there are no records of any Servant possessing her abilities.”

The Archer then suggested, “What about that Li Shuwen fellow?”

“Oh, him!” the Saber exclaimed. “He’s been entirely unaccounted for in this whole war. There’s also the possibility of other Servants being summoned who will assist us. Even so, I don’t think it’s a good idea to rest our hopes on those who may or may not show up. It’s best to pool what resources we have available and utilize them to the fullest.”

“That’s a good point.”

“So it’s clear that Rama, Diarmuid and Fia have no choice but to rush in,” Nightingale said. “It’d go against my good conscience to allow you all to charge in without anyone to heal you.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Rama said. “I’ll have Fia and Diarmuid concentrate on Medb while I destroy the Holy Grail with my Noble Phantasm. Ituha will hang back and snipe her, so I’d feel more comfortable if you were with her as a bodyguard.”

“I see. Then you better finish the job quickly so I don’t have to abandon Ituha and heal you all.”

“Leave it to me,” Diarmuid acknowledged. “Queen Medb may be terrifying as a queen, but her combat prowess is not as refined as mine or Miss Fia’s. If all goes well, I can even imagine Miss Fia slaughtering Queen Medb before she has the chance to do anything.”

“I can see that too. It’s scary how efficient Fia is even though she’s under severe Madness Enhancement,” Rama raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad she’s our ally.”

While the discussion was going on, Ituha stared at the campfire sullenly. She didn’t want to jinx the hopeful mood, but she remembered the most dangerous and unpredictable aspect of their battle that they had been overlooking this whole time:

_Cuchulainn… I wonder if he’s followed us or not…_

She shook her head and stood up, saying, “I’ll get some more wood.”

She headed a little ways into the forest and found a variety of fallen sticks and twigs. She crouched to pick them up, stuffing as many as she could in her short arms. It wouldn’t be two minutes that she heard something rustling nearby, and her heart leapt in worry. After a moment of silence, she dismissed it as a passing animal and continued gathering.

Then, without a sound, a black-gloved arm reached from behind her and snatched her off her feet!

**_“KYAAA~AAA~AAH!”_ **

“Ituha!?” Rama yelped, and the group ran to where she was. To their collective horror, the little girl was forced against a familiar scaled warrior wielding a long red lance with spikes. He kept his gaunt arm tightly wrapped around her petite torso so she couldn’t break free no matter how much she flailed and struggled.

 _“Miss Ituha!”_ Diarmuid screamed and tried to charge in to save her.

“Don’t move,” Cuchulainn Alter threatened the others, pointing Gae Bolg at her neck. “You don’t want this one to wind up as another stain on my spear, do you?”

“Ah…! Ah…!” Ituha shuddered uncontrollably, scared beyond comprehension. She couldn’t resist looking at the tip of the blade aimed directly at her - she even saw her reflection on the polished crimson metal, which only made her panic more.

Rama took control of the situation by shouting at her, “Stay calm! Take deep breaths and don’t provoke him! We’ll take care of this!”

“Mm…” the child sobbed and kept her mouth shut.

“So, your name’s Ituha? Can’t say I’ve heard of a Celtic Heroic Spirit like you,” Cuchulainn said to her. “You even have a striking resemblance to my daughter. Well, that’s impossible – she’s already become a Berserker. You must be using some kind of disguise to try and fool me.”

“…”

“Nevertheless, that plan you’ve all been cooking up doesn’t sound like a very good one.”

“You were listening!?” Nightingale snapped.

“Did you honestly think you lost me back when I killed Karna?” he grinned darkly. “I could have just rushed in and killed you lot before, but even I’m a little apprehensive when it comes to Connla… The one you call Fia now. She left behind a bunch of nasty scars for me as a parting gift.”

“So you were waiting until Fia was separated from us to strike!” Rama exclaimed.

“Exactly. I would have liked to kill her first, but she’s taught me to be cautious when it comes to her Berserker self. I’ll get rid of the rest of you first before concentrating on her. Once you’re all dead, Medb only needs time to overwhelm the North Army.”

“Then fight me first, Cuchulainn!” Diarmuid challenged him, wielding his dual lances. “As I am a traitor to your cause, would it not be suitable for you to seek my death first!?”

“Traitor? I don’t give a shit about any of that,” Cuchulainn grunted. “I would have turned on you anyway. Your incessantly chivalrous attitude makes me sick to my stomach. You did me a favor by eliminating Fionn for me, and now I’ll send you to where he is.”

“Don’t make me laugh! You taking a small child hostage is even more revolting!”

“My war will decimate everyone equally – man, woman, and child. This one isn’t a hostage… _She’s my first victim!_ ”

**“STOP!”**

“Heek…!” Ituha whimpered as Gae Bolg dug though a tiny layer of her cheek, expelling a drip of blood.

“Hm?” Cuchulainn appeared perplexed for a moment. He found it odd that she wasn’t dispelling any sort of illusion or disguise by now. The blood was very real and flowed as a normal red color, meaning he was piercing actual human skin. He thought that perhaps some otherworldly demon or monster was masquerading as Ituha, but now he understood that she was no different than them.

_This can’t be… If she’s not an impersonation of Connla, then she really is a Heroic Spirit who looks like her…_

It made no sense to him. He already knew that Fia was Connla, so how was this Archer also Connla? He watched Fia leave on her scouting mission earlier, and she had not returned yet. Ituha remained behind the whole time and had not left other than to gather wood, and she hadn’t gone very far either. In his mind, Connla couldn’t be in two places at once. It was impossible for any individual Servant to pull off such a feat.

The other Servants noticed Cuchulainn’s hesitation and tried to prepare their weapons. He caught them from the corner of his eye and decided to worry about it later. Right when he was about to jam Gae Bolg through Ituha’s head, the wind immediately picked up and rustled the leaves and grass in a chaotic frenzy. A small cyclonic streak bounced off the trees like a pinball and headed straight for the Mad King.

 ** _“What!?”_** he roared.

Both Cuchulainn and Ituha were suddenly sent hurtling across the dirt from a surprise gust of wind generated by Fia bashing her body against him. He lost his grip on Ituha, and she screamed while tumbling in the air. The feral child immediately caught her other self and brought her back to Rama and the others. The terrified Archer hurried behind Diarmuid for protection. Fia hunched down on all fours like an animal and glared at Cuchulainn through her mask, shivering with anticipation of tearing his guts out. He didn’t return her malice with hatred of his own, but rather unadulterated shock.

“Impossible…” was the Mad King’s astonished reaction. “T-There’s _two_ of her!?”

All this time, he knew about Fia’s existence and assumed that she was the one and only Connla who had gone mad. He never found out about Ituha until this very moment, and seeing two very conflicting versions of his daughter made him extremely baffled. In that instant, Scathach’s bitter words finally started to make sense:

_“You know absolutely NOTHING about your daughter!”_

His heart sunk, but he tried to hide it behind a veil of malice. His mentor was right; he knew nothing. He had no idea how truly deep Connla’s despair was until now. Her simply becoming a Berserker was one awful outcome, but at least it made the most rational sense for a Servant to give up their sanity in order to overcome grief.

For her to split apart into two different Servants however, she had to have plummeted into an inescapable abyss of darkness and loneliness that shattered her mind and fragmented her body. In other words, she ‘committed suicide’ by splitting herself so she could erase her original form entirely, thereby ending the nightmare she was living in. He wasn’t sure if there was an actual skill he could identify this phenomenon with.

“Do you see it now, Cuchulainn?” Nightingale asked. “Your illness was so contagious that it wound up affecting her. Connla became infected with your darkness and was willing to shed her former self to escape the hell you put her though, lest she wind up becoming as despicable as you. Yet that did nothing to heal the underlying cause of her sickness. Her offspring are likewise fighting diseases of their own - one with amnesia, the other with insanity.”

He glared at the nurse and glowered, “You talk too much.”

“I’m not speaking for myself. I am the voice of my patients who are unable to say any of those kinds of things. I promised her from the very beginning that I would treat her, and I am going to finish that duty by burning every last pathogen threatening to ail her further!”

Cuchulainn was about to retort, but Fia grew impatient with listening to their conversation and jumped out of sight in a small twister that kicked up leaves and grass. He grit his sharp teeth and dilated his eyes in alarm, realizing instantly that he had to go on the offensive. He brought Gae Bolg forth and blocked her diving thrust, which was powerful enough to make him reel backwards. They clashed their spears several times, then Fia ducked into the tall grass and obscured herself while running at breakneck speeds in a low angle. Cuchulainn could see where she was going thanks to the rustling foliage and ran parallel to intercept her.

Fia skidded on her heels to twist her body toward him, then leapt over him as he stabbed forth. She avoided being skewered and somersaulted several times, then landed in such a way that she could launch herself back at him, plunging her polearm at his midsection and piercing through with a burst of blood.

“Damn it!” Cuchulainn cursed and wrapped his tail around the small girl. His intention was to crush her to death like a boa constrictor would, but she used a series of Ken Runes to generate a sphere of razor-sharp winds around her. The gusts tore through his tail and backside, forcing him to drop her to avoid being shredded to bits. She maintained the deadly winds and seemed to ‘fly’ through the air as she activated her Noble Phantasm, Maiseite Gaoithe. She practically transformed herself into a “wind machete” that tore through the air around Cuchulainn, and he had to concentrate on maintaining a solid defense when it wasn’t exactly his specialty. Her movements made him think of the Japanese _kamaitachi_ , especially with the way she lacerated his skin with small but countless wounds.

If there ever was such a thing as a coherent thought in Fia’s mind, it would resemble this:

_Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! **KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL! KILL! KILL! KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL KIII~III~LLL~LLL~LLL!**_

If Cuchulainn only caused Connla immense sorrow and sadness, then Fia was born from her darkest desire to get rid of that source of her despair. Back when she was whole, Connla would never have allowed this dreadful, selfish side of herself to dominate her thoughts. By splitting it into an independent entity, she could discard such sentiment and try to eliminate her woes without restraint. That was Fia’s entire purpose; kill Cuchulainn, and make herself feel better.

“Ugh! Kgh! Damn it-!” the Mad King grunted, barely keeping up with her god-like speed with his own violently flailing spear. The unhealed injuries he sustained from Karna’s Noble Phantasm also compounded his fatigue.

_SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!_

The intense swooshing of Fia’s wind vacuum was too much for him to handle, and she landed a blow on one of his legs that caused him to lose his footing. She richocheted everywhere, slamming into him at rapid speeds and throwing him about everywhere like a piñata being batted around from all different directions. One blow sent him hurtling backwards, but Fia immediately shot straight behind him while he was in mid-flight and barreled at his backside. The two opposing forces bent Cuchulainn back in an almost perfect and downright agonizing fold where his ankles touched the top of his head.

He couldn’t utter a cry of agony as he crumpled upon the grass, and Fia vaulted off of him. She spared absolutely no mercy or time for him to recover as she immediately leapt above him aiming her spear at his neck. The livid Cuchulainn snarled like a beast and whirled around, swinging Gae Bolg just in time to parry her stab. She tumbled in midair and landed, then flipped aside just before he slammed his weapon into the ground she was on. The frenzy they were caught in was impossible to describe with words beyond chaotic, random, and destructive. Any land they wound up on would be destroyed in a matter of seconds either by Cuchulainn’s raw strength or Fia’s awesome speed.

At last, he got in a hit when he stabbed at her abdomen and grazed the flesh. She wasn’t used to pain, so she winced and performed some back flips to get away from him. He was just as relentless as her however, and he took deadly chase. With a powerful swing that rendered the earth asunder, he raised Gae Bolg in an upwards arc in an attempt to cleave her in half. She just barely edged her body back to avoid the terrifying attack. The tip of the spear scraped across her mask, just shallow enough to miss her skin but deep enough to destroy the face cover. It fragmented into useless pieces and clattered upon the forest floor. Fia left it behind and somersaulted backwards several times before landing squarely in a squatting position, breathing very hard.

With her mask gone, everyone finally got a good look at her real face. The charming white fur coat and mittens she wore did nothing to dispel her frightening visage. The little girl’s brown eyes were completely devoid of life. Her lavender hair was much longer and more messier than she normally had. What caught their attention however was the multitude of extra eyes that opened up on her cheeks and forehead like blinking tumors. Her bared teeth were sharp and dripping with saliva as she snarled at Cuchulainn.

“Miss… Fia…?” Diarmuid choked up and shuddered.

Ituha was equally as shocked at seeing how horrifying and disgusting her alternate self appeared. She covered her mouth in abject fright and yelped, “What… happened to you!?”

“Riastrad.”

Cuchulainn’s calm voice broke through the disbelieving atmosphere as he approached Fia. She anxiously backed away from him with each step he took.

“She has gone so far off the deep end that _riastrad_ has fully claimed her, not to mention the added effects of Madness Enhancement,” he explained. “It is the battle frenzy that I was once famous for, so it’s no surprise that she would inherit it from me. Normally Connla keeps it buried within her subconscious, but this Berserker version of her must have allowed it to awaken and let it control her actions. Meanwhile, that Archer version has amnesia, so remembering her previous suffering is out of the question.”

He wielded Gae Bolg and got into his battle stance. “Don’t you see? Connla is no longer herself. It’s my duty as her father to send the last of her fragments to Emain Ablach.”

“I apologize, sir, but I can’t let that happen!” Diarmuid retorted as he brandished his dual lances. “Both halves are needed to repair her Spirit Origin! If you destroy even one of them, there will be no hope of reviving the princess!”

“That’s why I’ll kill both of them instead.”

“Don’t be absurd! She’s your _daughter_! Have you given up on her so easily!?”

Cuchulainn’s eyes grew so wide that blood vessels could be seen on the whites. “Those two are not the Connla I remember! She killed herself in Ohio! She abandoned the future I had planned for her, and left me behind to mourn for her death! She destroyed my entire purpose for waging this war, leaving me with nothing but the power to kill! _The daughter I know is dead!_ **_DEAD!_** ”

All of the Servants fell silent as they felt his rage and disappointment. They realized that he was extremely angry with Connla for self-destructing when he wasn’t around to protect her. That was why he saw Ituha and Fia as nothing more than complete strangers, even if they were created from Connla’s Spirit Origin as their bases.

“I see… So that’s what it is…” Diarmuid whispered slowly.

The Fianna Knight said no more. He no longer had any right to lecture Cuchulainn when he was suffering from such tremendous grief. Everyone else felt the same way. Diarmuid immediately charged at his former king and stabbed both of his lances with incredible precision and furor. Cuchulainn had to struggle not to just avoid the two weapons, but to also dodge the curses either of them could deliver to him. He concentrated on Gae Buidhe first, fully aware that if he couldn’t heal his terrifying wounds afterwards, he would die from exsanguination anyway.

Both men shouted their battle cries and dueled in an incredible dervish of movement. The three spears smashed against each other in an imperceptible flurry. Soon enough though, Diarmuid found himself unable to tolerate Cuchulainn’s monstrous strength and tried to retreat.

“That was stupid,” the king snarled and unleashed his full might against Gae Buidhe. The yellow spear cracked, then shattered into fragments that scattered in the air.

“Impossible!” Diarmuid gasped.

“One problem neutralized. I could focus on doing the same thing to Gae Dearg, but why waste the time when I can have your heart instead?”

“My heart-!?”

Gae Bolg shone an intimidating crimson color as its owner called upon the familiar curse. The other Servants tried to stop him, but it was much too late.

**_“GAE BOLG!”_ **

Once Cuchulainn threw his weapon, Diarmuid’s fate was already decided. A shrill piercing sound echoed throughout the forest. Blood exploded out of the knight’s mouth, and he lost his grip on Gae Dearg before plummeting onto his back in total silence.

 _“NOO~OOO~OOO!”_ Ituha shrieked.

There was no time for anyone to mourn Diarmuid’s fall, since Cuchulainn was still retrieving Gae Bolg and set his sights on the survivors. Fia let out a child-like roar and flew into an uncontrollable frenzy that would not be calmed until she devoured the Mad King’s entrails. Saliva drooled through her sharp teeth as she charged in to strike him again, allowing the highest level of battle frenzy to dominate her mind and instincts. _Riastrad_ likewise claimed his sanity and transformed him into an incoherent monster as he lunged straight for her.

**_“GWAAA~AAA~AAA~AAAHHH!”_ **

Both of them closed the gap between each other at such a fast rate that blinking would cause any observer to miss the moment of impact. When the worst of it dissipated, it revealed Fia violently tumbling and bouncing across the ground. She finally stopped on her side and didn’t have the strength to get back up. Cuchulainn rushed at her, seeking to pierce her to death multiple times with Gae Bolg.

 _“Not a chance!”_ Rama screamed and parried with his sword.

“Goddamn rat! Shut up and DIE ALREADY!” the Celtic king raged, flailing his legendary weapon around so hard and fast that he easily cleaved through trees and dirt like they weren’t even there. Rama twisted his body to avoid the onslaught, while Ituha had already taken Fia away from danger. Nightingale healed Fia’s wounds, giving her the energy she needed to rejoin the battle. The young Berserker pounced right back on Cuchulainn at the same time Rama swung his sword down upon him. He raised Gae Bolg to block both assaults at once, and the two Servants struggled to overpower him together.

“USELESS!” he shouted and delivered a mighty swing that tossed both of them off him. He tried to kill them while they were off-balance, but he noticed Nightingale aiming her gun at his head the moment she fired. The flashing sparks emanating from the pistol snapped him into using his lance as an impromptu shield, deflecting the bullet a fraction of a second before it could puncture his cranium.

Ituha twirled like a dancer and spread her arms about, conjuring a series of fireballs that she launched at Cuchulainn. He parried each one with incredible precision, then rushed in to try and stab her. She hopped straight up, landed square on the spiked pole, then shoved an Ansuz Rune right in front of his face before back flipping off, leaving the spell to explode all around him in a brilliant inferno. She landed without incident, and the four heroes looked to see how badly injured their foe would be.

The flames swirled around his large silhouette until he broke through and showed them how positively livid and furious he was. In that moment, he truly looked like a hell beast emerging from the depths of an erupting volcano. Burns, wounds, gashes, and blood coated his battered body. His appearance was terrible, but he still had plenty of life glowing in his ruby eyes. He looked at the remaining four Servants, unsure of who to brutally slay first.

 _“Let’s go, Fia!”_ Nightingale shouted, and the two Berserkers rushed in to attack Cuchulainn.

 ** _“Impudent little shits!”_** the Mad King shrieked, and coarse veins distorted his hideous expression. He swung Gae Bolg hard at Nightingale, but she did the unthinkable – she used all of her strength to catch the spear in mid-swing. The spikes gouged through her hands as she wrapped them around the pole, momentarily disabling him. Fia generated an invisible wind lance and flung it at him. In a desperate move to block it, he lifted Nightingale off her feet, used his lance to toss her away, then smashed the windy projectile into useless gusts. Ituha fired another volley of fireballs, which he effortlessly blocked with numerous spear twirls.

“Why are you trying so hard!?” he shouted. His blood vessels looked like they were going to burst on their own. “Just give up and die! We’re all destined to perish anyway, so why bother struggling!? All of you should join me in death! Then the pain and misery plaguing us all will all go away!”

“Quit your incessant babbling!” Rama shouted and swung his blade hard at Cuchulainn’s chest. He gouged out a nasty diagonal gash across the king’s torso, causing blood to spill everywhere.

Cuchulainn screamed vicious profanities and jumped away while pressing his hand against his chest. He glared at the Saber and snarled, “Stop flaunting your borrowed feathers, you worthless scumbag!”

“Right back at you, false king!”

“Hmph! If it wasn’t for Fia buzzing all over me like some obnoxious fly, I would have enjoyed destroying your heart a second time! I have no choice but to go home and cool off now!”

“There’s no point in fleeing, Cuchulainn,” Nightingale declared. “You may heal your body, but your fury will never be cured. Why? Because you are irrevocably ill.”

“Heh heh! You right about that, blood-covered saint. I’ll never be healed. All I can do is continue living as a king with no successor, fighting and fighting until I fall and rot.”

“No successor…? I see, so that’s the medicine you so desperately need. I get it now. You’re suffering from severe symptoms of withdrawal.”

“Shut up, bimbo. Don’t talk like you know everything about me. If you want to finish me so badly, then come and get me if you can! I’ll fight you all to the death in Washington!”

With that threat, Cuchulainn jumped high into the sky and disappeared into his spirit form, leaving the remaining heroes to surround the dying Diarmuid. Ituha was especially devastated and held his hand while crying.

“M-Miss Ituha… Miss… Fia… Listen to me…” Diarmuid gasped. “There’s only… one way… to calm… that beast. You two… need to remember… who you once were…”

“As the Child of Cuchulainn?” Ituha sobbed.

“Yes. You need to… resurrect the princess.”

“But I don’t know how.”

“Scathach told me. All you need… is to have nothing more… than the desire… to save that man…”

“To save Cuchulainn… My father…”

Diarmuid finally lost all of his strength and disappeared in a flurry of golden light particles. She wanted to stay there and mourn his death until she was satisfied, but she knew there wasn’t any time left. Rama put his hand on her shoulder, which was all the encouragement she needed to get back up. Whether they were victorious or not, there would be plenty of time for grieving later. Ituha had to concentrate on the mission that Diarmuid and Scathach left behind for her:

_Father… Even if I’m not strong enough to save everyone, I want to at least pull you out of that darkness… To reach my hand for you as you’re falling, when no one else will…_

“Let’s keep moving,” Nightingale said. “If we give him any time to rest, he’ll be back at full strength. Now’s the best time to sanitize him and Medb – when the main pathogen is at his weakest!”


	16. Here Lies the Queen

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 16: Here Lies the Queen**

“Tah! Hah! Take this!” Elizabeth shouted, stabbing her spear through a werewolf’s chest. She extracted it out of the corpse and moved on to the next opponent, killing them in a similar fashion. She lost count of how many Celtic soldiers and monsters she had slain, but it certainly was an impressive number for a Lancer who cared more about expanding her fame through music rather than fighting. Despite her efforts though, the enemy troops just kept flooding in like a tidal wave.

“Gah, this is ridiculous!” Robin shouted, pulling the string to a trap that caused numerous boulders to come rolling down upon the soldiers, crushing a good number of them to death.

“You said that 60% reduction is the goal, right!? Are you really pulling your weight around here!?”

“When I put my mind to it, I can get anything done! Traps, poison, sabotage, subterfuge, even treachery among their own ranks – I’ve been pulling out all the stops! Normally, a 60% loss of troops is enough to lower morale and cause the survivors to retreat. I suppose there’s only one exception to that rule though.”

“Yeah! Single-minded deathseekers who act on a hive mind!”

“Edison and Blavatsky are doing all they can with the mech troops, but the goal is to maintain this line, not to push through. I don’t mean to jinx things, but if a Servant gets thrown into the mix-“

“You’ll be in a lot of trouble!” a man’s deep, baritone voice boomed over them. Elizabeth’s heart pounded as she recognized the voice, and both Servants faced none other than Beowulf. He found them while they were busy arguing and had casually strolled up to them.

“Way to go, dumbass! You totally and utterly jinxed us!” she raged.

“Sorry…” Robin grumbled.

“Long time no see, scrawny lizard,” Beowulf smirked. “Looks like you don’t have the same friends you had with you last time.”

“Not you again! And it’s ‘slender’, not ‘scrawny’!” Elizabeth objected. “Ugh, I can’t stand this guy! Crude, shameless, and full of nothing but muscles, including his brain! Hey, Greenie! You deal with this vulgar brute!”

“I’ll die without your help,” Robin retorted bluntly.

“What a slacker you are. Fine, I have no choice! Pepper him with your little arrows and traps! I’ll show him that there’s only room for one dragon slayer in this world!”

She got in to duel Beowulf, striking her spear numerous times against his large twin sabers. Robin fired his crossbow shots whenever he could, but he didn’t want to risk striking his ally either. Although their efforts were valiant, the Grendel Slayer was much more experienced in the ways of combat and found his chance to overpower Elizabeth with his brute strength. Her arms screamed in pain as she struggled to block his sword swings. Eventually, he wore her down so much that he managed to sneak in a vicious kick right at her stomach, tossing her onto the ground and making her cough. Beowulf likewise went after Robin in a similar manner, though it took nowhere near as much effort to toss the Archer about and reduce him to a bloody pile lying on the dirt.

“Agh… This isn’t good,” Robin groaned. “If only Edison could help us…”

“Guh… Not this again…” Elizabeth gasped, thinking, _Is this what Nero felt when she lost to Cuchulainn? Is my dream of Broadway going to disappear like her dream of Hollywood…?_

Beowulf smirked. “Nice try, kids, but you don’t have what it takes to face a real hero. Maybe that quack Presi-King will give me a better fight than you guys did.”

“D-Don’t look down on me!” the Lancer seethed.

“Then I’ll just kill you instead. How does that sound?”

He raised his sword, prepared to decapitate Elizabeth in a single strike. Just then, a different man’s bold, deep voice exclaimed, “Then allow me to give you the challenge you seek!”

Beowulf turned to block a long thin lance being stabbed at him by a red-haired fellow in Chinese martial artist clothing. The Berserker grunted, “Whoa! Who the hell are you?”

“Just a passing Lancer. My True Name’s Li Shuwen. I’ve been looking around for a worthwhile opponent to stave my boredom, and few are as satisfying as the Scandinavian grendel slayer Beowulf.”

“Li Shuwen, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you. ‘No second strike’, indeed! Can you really live up to the reputation you boast about?”

“Would you like to test it then? Nothing else easily settles the debate between reality or an exaggeration.”

“Then without weapons,” Beowulf put away his dual swords and cracked his knuckles. “I can’t pass up this opportunity to pummel a guy who looks stronger than grendel.”

“Oh? You want to do this with your fists? Fine by me,” Li replied and sheathed his spear. “I’d love to pit my Bajiquan against your unrefined yet legendary strength.”

“Then… One-“

“Two.”

“THREE!” both men shouted in unison and smashed their fists against each other. The world around them seemed to shake, and a windy shockwave scattered dirt everywhere.

“Whoa!” Robin exclaimed. “It’s a real fistfight!”

“How repulsively masculine,” Elizabeth retched. “Still, at least our scarred muscular friend will be kept preoccupied. Aw, yeah! Now I’m feeling pumped to slay some pigs!”

“Now who’s starting to sound like the masculine one?”

“It’s called adrenaline, not testosterone!”

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

_“Are you implying something!?”_

“Nope, not at all. Let’s get back in there and clean up. Edison wouldn’t like it if he saw us just standing around.”

* * *

Thick grey clouds blanketed the sky around Washington, as if nature itself responded to the tense situation by creating the appropriate atmosphere for an epic showdown. The White House seemed to turn an ashen color with the darkening skies, making it resemble a government facility for demons rather than humans. It didn’t help that instead of patriotic symbols, there were statues of gruff Celtic warriors and fearsome dragons looming over the front entrance. Added to this grim décor was a gigantic version of Gae Bolg piercing the ground on an angle, serving as the symbol of Cuchulainn’s imposing might and tyrannical kingship.

Standing in front of the giant spear were the king and queen. They remained alone, with no vassals or Servants to guard them. Cuchulainn remained indifferent as usual, but Medb looked around at her ‘castle’ with a morose look in her eyes.

“Oh dear. Looks like this is the end of playing queen for me,” Medb said.

“Was it fun?” he asked boredly.

“Very much so. Even if I must do the most unqueenly thing ever and engage in battle, I’ll enjoy it to the fullest. What about you, Cu? Isn’t any of this exciting for you?”

“Can’t say. I feel like this whole debacle has carried on longer than it should.”

“You don’t like being the king I’ve always dreamed of you being?”

He stared at her. Although he could tolerate her better than if he was a Lancer, he still harbored tremendous resentment for her forcing him to live in the system known as a monarchy. He knew he was nothing more than a manifested ideal – a nightmare turned into a Servant. Perhaps, in some deranged way that he could never fathom, he sought Connla out to drag her into this constricting world as a ‘princess’, so that he could then find a shred of value in his role as a ‘king’. She was smart enough to reject this dark philosophy however, and went so far as to disappear in order to escape his grip. He was left with nothing but festering hatred and malice that wouldn’t be sated until he destroyed all life in this world.

Medb didn’t seem to notice Cuchulainn’s bitterness and cooed, “I love you, Cu.”

“…”

She stared forth from the front entrance and noticed movement. She calmly smiled and murmured, “It’s time for the final struggle. Let’s crush them beneath our feet, and force them to writhe like dying worms while they glare at us with determination in their battered eyes.”

As soon as the queen said this, the four remaining Servants of the South Army rushed up the White House’s steps and stopped when they found their two greatest opponents waiting for them. Ituha looked up at Medb, feeling a mysterious pang of nostalgia hit her when she saw both the queen and the transformed building.

“We’re finally here!” Nightingale exclaimed. Her heart raced with excitement and anticipation – she had yearned to come here for the longest time, and now the thrill was starting to affect her. “This is the epicenter of the disease corroding this world!”

“Welcome to my humble abode, scum,” Medb greeted them with a sickly sweet tone. “I’m glad you could make it here. But what is this? Four? _Only_ four Servants to challenge me? Ah ha ha ha! This is too funny! What could so few simpletons do against the combined might of my king and the Holy Grail!?”

“Sorry, but we’ve got no time to listen to your yapping,” Rama retorted. “All right, everyone! Get into formation like we discussed!”

He and Nightingale paired off to corner Medb, leaving Fia and Ituha to go against Cuchulainn. The Archer’s heart pounded so hard that she thought it would expel itself out of her throat like some undesirable bolus. Even so, she wouldn’t back down after what she suggested to Rama during the last leg of their journey:

_“I think it would be best if Fia and I kept Cuchulainn busy. I think he was mainly interested in killing the two of us first because we were once his daughter. While we keep him distracted, you and Ms. Nightingale assassinate Medb and destroy the Holy Grail as fast as you can.”_

Although Rama didn’t like the plan, it was the only one they could go with since they lost Diarmuid. Besides, Fia was only interested in killing Cuchulainn, so Ituha figured it’d be best if she provided backup while her other self went as wild as she liked. Fia hopped in front of Cuchulainn and readied her spear as she ferociously stared at him with her multiple eyes.

“How ugly,” he murmured. “Connla’s visage with _riastrad_ is as repulsive as I imagined. That’s why I’ll erase you first so I can repress the memory of your hideous face.”

He initiated the battle by running for the child Berserker. A fearsome battle grin stretched all across his face as the warriors clashed. Although he didn’t have enough time to recover fully from their last duel, he was certainly strong enough to overpower his young foe with his wild, uncontrollable spear slashes. She grunted and seethed with each mighty blow she struggled to parry, but she couldn’t keep up with him and he got in one good strike that sent her flying backwards like a cannonball.

Fia smacked her back against the wall, then hurredily twirled aside to avoid Cuchulainn cleaving into the area she was at. She kept fumbling away, looking as if she could lose her balance at any moment. She maintained an impressive distance and found her chance to run straight up the White House’s walls to the second floor balcony, grabbing the balustrade and deftly flipping onto her feet. She squatted and looked down, knowing she was going to be pursued. Just as she expected, Cuchulainn dug his clawed feet into the wall and sprinted vertically with a powerful leap, glaring at Fia with both anger and delight.

She suddenly hopped off and dove straight down at him, generating a mighty gust that pushed her down faster than terminal velocity. He wasn’t prepared to intercept her, and she slammed right on his chest to make him lose his footing. They plummeted onto the grass together, and Fia quickly jumped off him. Out of the rising smoke, Cuchulainn rushed out to duel her again. Their spears whizzed around so much that most of the neatly trimmed bushes and flowers were sheared into ugly messes without a second thought.

Fia ducked her head beneath a powerful swing from Gae Bolg, which missed her by only millimeters. Small tufts of her purple her were snipped off, but she ignored the close call and flipped about in a seemingly clumsy fashion. She headed toward the front entrance and landed near the stairs. Cuchulainn attempted to chase after her, but that was when he noticed multiples of an F-shaped sigil etched all over the ground.

“Shit!”

With a silent command from Ituha, all of the Ansuz Runes detonated like mines and engulfed him in a deadly inferno. It had been the girls’ plan to have Fia distract him while Ituha laid those traps in a specific area, then Fia would lure him into that spot so he would suffer massive damage. The plan worked, but when the flames and smoke subsided, they only found him covered in burns and bleeding scars.

“My word! It’s like he’s unstoppable!” Ituha exclaimed nervously.

Cuchulainn realized that, although the Archer was weak-looking and diminutive, he couldn’t forget about her raw magical power and clever strategizing. Her trick had dealt more damage to him than Fia’s occasional spear strikes, and he didn’t want that to happen again. He spun Gae Bolg in his hands to get into a combat position, then charged at the astonished Ituha. He reached his hand out to snatch her throat, then slammed her back against a tree and lifted her off her feet to choke her.

“Gah! Ahh!” she yelped in desperation.

The red magic circles appeared around her hands once again and shone bright. Although she couldn’t utter her Noble Phantasm’s name, it seemed to activate on its own and generated scorching fire around her palms. It happened so fast that Cuchulainn couldn’t react in time to escape, and he was immediately caught in an intense conflagration that he found to be very similar to Karna’s Vasavi Shakti. Fia, who was running toward the scene to save her other self, slipped off her feet and doubled back to miss getting caught in the blaze. The heat alone was so potent that her coat and mittens caught on fire, and she had to throw them off to save herself.

Within the firestorm, Cuchulainn fell to one knee in utter exhaustion. Even he couldn’t take two powerful fire-elemental Noble Phantasms without feeling the effects. Although he used his Battle Continuation skill to survive certain death, he didn’t regenerate enough to be considered fully healed. He tried to get back to his feet, but Ituha conjured a large fireball in her hands and commanded, _“Don’t move!”_

He glared at her, surprised to see the petite Archer looking so tough. As he got a good look at her features, he could finally see something that he had envisioned this entire time – what Connla would have looked like as a noble princess who lived and fought for her people.

“I’ve got this, Fia,” Ituha said to the feral child. “Go help Lord Rama and Ms. Nightingale.”

Although she was hesitant about leaving her ‘twin’ behind, she silently obeyed her order and scurried off to find the other battle.

* * *

Meanwhile, Medb revealed that she had been harboring the Holy Grail inside her the whole time, only showing it to Rama and Nightingale as an arrogant display of power.

“Is this what you’re after?” she taunted. “Those fools tried to kill me last time over this, but completely and _utterly_ failed. If you want to follow your friends to hell, I’ll be more than happy to accommodate you! Don’t blame me if I inscribe something embarrassing on your headstones though!”

“No,” Rama retorted. “We’re not after the Holy Grail. The only thing more valuable than that is your head on a pike!”

“My, what a violent little man you are.”

“Enough with the hollow boasting, Medb. You don’t have what it takes to defeat us, even with the Grail,” Nightingale said. “Even if I somehow used medical techniques that will be developed in the future, no amount of treatment in the world will heal you. You are healthy, yet hopelessly wicked at the same time. This is not an illness. Like a demon reincarnating into a human, you were born evil.”

The queen was greatly offended by those words and snapped, “Shut up!”

“I see it now. So that’s how the great hero Cuchulainn was infected, then inadvertently spread it to Connla. Then by my pledge, I’ll commence treatment for him by first sanitizing the source of his disease!”

“My god, you don’t know how to keep your trap shut, do you, woman!? Then I’ll have to silence you first! Come, my cute boys! Protect your queen by tearing out their guts!”

The sacred chalice bubbled over with some viscous, molasses-like fluid and formed into mindless Celtic warriors and Shadow Servants. Rama spent no time gawking at them and immediately cleaved through the muck as the soldiers were being produced. He found them to be much easier to destroy in this half-formed state compared to when they were fully materialized. One by one, he cut down the warriors like using a machete to slice through jungle foliage, while Nightingale focused on a couple of Shadow Servants by shooting bullets through their heads.

“I’m eliminating them faster than she can spawn them!” Rama shouted jubilantly. “They must be at their weakest when they first materialize!”

“Leave the source of this illness to me. I will sanitize this contagion in no time flat,” Nightingale told him, then turned to Medb, “So much for your endless army of germs and bacteria. It has the potential to be infinite, but only if you can perform the summoning without being distracted.”

“Shut up, vermin!”

“HAAAH!” the nurse raged and leapt off a warrior’s cranium, plummeting over the queen and twisting her body so she could chop her leg down on her shoulder like an axe. Medb screeched, unable to cope with the terrible pain that threatened to rip her arm right off. Unlike Cuchulainn, she wasn’t known for engaging in combat and always had to rely on servants and minions to do the heavy lifting for her. That didn’t mean she was entirely helpless though; as a Heroic Spirit, Medb could use the Golden Rule skill to apply self-healing that lessened the damage from Nightingale’s attack.

 _“Now you’ve done it!”_ she raged and jumped backwards while snapping her fingers. In a flutter of pink hearts, a large chariot driven by two armored bulls appeared, and she landed in front of the carriage’s seat before sitting down.

“Every thought is my strength! Mad love, misleading affairs, destructive lust! My favorite iron chariot! **_Chariot My Love!_** ”

The bulls roared and charged at Nightingale, intent on trampling her to death. Amazingly, the nurse made no move to dodge them. Instead, Nightingale dug her fingers into the bull’s cranium while pushing her feet against the ground with titanesque force. She then vaulted upside-down over the animal, planted her feet on its back, and hopped right at the astonished queen. She balled her hand into a tight fist and delivered a most satisfying punch to her cheek. An awful crunching sound permeated the air, followed by crashing noises as Medb collapsed out of her chariot. The bulls lost their footing, colliding with the White House’s walls in a gust of smoke before disappearing.

“You-! You-! _YOU CRAZY WENCH!_ ” Medb screamed. Tears of agony flowed down her swollen cheek, and some blood dripped from her mouth.

 _“If I’m a wench, then you’re a pustule festering on the ass of this world!”_ Nightingale retorted, her livid expression turning fierce.

**_“SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTH!”_ **

* * *

Ituha sent more stones and fireballs flying at Cuchulainn as he fought to get back up and kill her. She was absolutely scared for her life, but she didn’t want to retreat either. There was no way to know if she could call this ‘heroic courage’ or ‘idiotic fear’, but she remained steadfast with the fusillade of blazing projectiles while coping with her rapidly beating heart and soul-crushing anxiety. The grass around them was scorched black, and acrid smoke made breathing very difficult for them.

“Damn it,” Cuchulainn gasped sullenly. “Why did you have to have her face…?”

Ituha was too frightened to hold any sort of conversation with the Mad King. All she could do was stare at him in silence.

“If only you had chosen to stay with me, things would have been so much easier,” he murmured. “You could’ve spared yourself a lot of needless anguish.”

_What is he talking about?_

She wanted to ask him, but her throat felt too tight for her to form any words. After another minute of apprehension, Cuchulainn’s eyes suddenly shifted sideways. Between the crackling flames, he heard something unusual. His expression became alarmed as he clenched his teeth and turned to run toward the other battle. Ituha gasped and ran after him, wondering where he would be going at a time like this.

* * *

Medb had heard enough of Nightingale’s insults and got in to face the foul-mouthed Angel of Crimea personally. Nothing would quell her rage like beating her up with her riding crop so hard that the nurse would be left unrecognizable. However, she would not be able to see her morbid fantasy come true…

“MWAAA~AAA~AAAHHH!” an unfamiliar shriek caught her attention, and she found Fia barreling straight for her with her mouth wide open.

She pounced on Medb and sunk her sharp teeth into her neck, mauling her like a wild dog would. After some agitated struggling, she finally punctured the woman’s carotid artery and caused a tremendous amount of blood to spew everywhere as a deep red geyser. The queen’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened in horror. The image of the sweet, endearing Connla clashed with the sight of her Berserker self’s ghastly visage. Back and forth, the two images constantly switched in Medb’s mind – a charming little girl dressed in pretty white-and-green dresses, and that same child roaring aloud while drenched in blood and blinking her alien eyes.

_This isn’t… what I wanted…_

Fia looked over her shoulder when she noticed something large and black rushing toward her. Cuchulainn angrily snarled and stabbed his spear at her, forcing her to jump back and do some flips to regain her footing. Soon enough, Ituha came running to see what was happening. Medb fell backwards onto the pavement, her eyes empty and the ground near her neck stained red. The summoned warriors and monsters that Rama struggled against started to disappear one by one.

_I wanted Cu to be the wild beast… not Connie…_

Medb tried to look up at Fia and Ituha, but her blood pressure dropped so dramatically that she felt like she was going to be sick.

_Connie… All I wanted… was to take… your mother’s place… so we could be… a happy family. Just the three of us…_

She thought she passed out for a moment because when she opened her bleary eyes once again, she found Cuchulainn hunched over her while holding her head in his arm. He stared into her eyes with a compassion she thought she had erased when she wished for him to be a beast king of destruction.

“Oh, Cu…” she whispered weakly. “I feel terrible…”

“You don’t look so good.”

“Yes… I know I’m going to die… All at Connie’s hand. I shared in your dream… of making her happy. But…”

“She didn’t accept the method we used. We ignored her true feelings and did as we pleased.”

“This is my punishment… for forcing her… to play a role… she didn’t want. So now I have… come to the end… of my role. I’m sorry… I didn’t get to… make your daughter happy…”

“You did your best. You did what you could for her, while defending your nation as a queen. You’re pretty capable when you put your mind to it.”

“Cu! Y-You’re really praising me…!” Medb smiled warmly. “Although I failed… as Connie’s foster mother… at least I got to… make my deepest wish… come true. You’re finally… mine. And now, I leave everything… in your hands… and in theirs…”

“Theirs?” Rama asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Eh… ah ha ha ha ha! Have you forgotten?” the defeated queen giggled defiantly. “Do you not know… of my greatest work? Of my… Clan Calatin?”

Ituha murmured, “Those are the warriors you assembled to defeat Cuchulainn. Comprised of a father and his 27 sons, it was a poisonous creature of hatred you sent to slay him out of vengeance.”

“Almost 30 warriors, huh? Very well – summon them!” Rama commanded.

Medb’s chuckling grew even more sinister. “Oh, you’re so wrong… You couldn’t be… further from… the truth! While you’re busy here… I’m sure… your North Army… is already… being swallowed… by _them_ …”

“What!?” Nightingale shouted. “You can’t be serious! Did you use the Clan Calatin as catalysts to summon _those_ things!?”

“He he he… can your friends survive… against the wrath of… _28 Demon God Pillars at once!?_ ”

Ituha covered her mouth in abject shock. “No! Is that even possible!? Even with the Holy Grail, that should be impossible! No human should be capable of such a ridiculous feat!”

“Feh,” Cuchulainn retorted. “That just shows you how strong her wish is. If it’s for my sake, she’ll offer everything she has.”

“This can’t be happening!”

* * *

In the northern front, Helena started to act strangely as she looked around fervently. Edison noticed this and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Mr. Edison,” she said with a sharp tone, “you need to have your soldiers retreat!”

“Hm? Why?”

“Just do it! Hurry!”

He sounded a loud horn that signaled for his troops to fall back. Robin and Elizabeth heard it as well, and the Archer wondered, “He wants us to retreat?”

“Why!? We’re winning, aren’t we!?” Elizabeth screeched.

“Who knows? Why not ask Edison about- Whoa!?”

The ground suddenly started to shake in a violent tumult, nearly throwing both Servants off their feet. Li Shuwen and Beowulf also had to stop their duel when the earthquake made them lose their balance. Everyone screamed in a panic, and Edison commanded, “Calm down! It’s just an earthquake!”

“No! This is no ordinary seismic tremor!” Helena exclaimed. “This is…!”

The ground started to split open… Not from one spot, but from multiple locations in a concentric area around the astonished Servants. Then, _they_ shot out of the ground. Like tree roots with life of their own, a series of massive black tentacles with numerous red eyes disgorged themselves from the earth and flailed about. The already-dark clouds darkened to a menacing hue as forks of lightning streaked everywhere.

One, two, three, four, five… The heroes couldn’t keep up with how many Demon God Pillars surrounded them, but once the tentacles stopped popping out, they could make the final tally at a mind-shattering 28 monsters.

“Whaaa! W-W-W-What is this!?” Elizabeth screamed.

“I think most people would call this a ‘major boss’,” Robin murmured.

Beowulf frowned and said to Li, “There’s no way to win this. No matter if it’s my dragon-slaying skills or your techniques, nothing we do will defeat these things. But we can’t run away either. Feh… So I was just a throwaway minion from the very get-go… Just someone to hold the enemy in place so this could be sprung on us all.”

“Our only option is to give up, huh?” the martial artist sighed.

Edison started to tremble with fear. Soon, the man who boasted about mass production and democracy faltered and moaned, “This is the end…”

“Edison?” Helena wondered worriedly.

“Look! Just look at this! We would be hard-pressed just to take down one of them with the Servants we have! We do not even have a shred of hope against 28 Demon God Pillars!”

“You have to calm down! You mustn’t panic!”

“Oooh! It would seem… justice is defeated! America… no, the world, will die here! _I was not enough to protect everyone!_ ”

Helena couldn’t say anything to console her terrified friend.

* * *

Medb’s skin turned as white as her clothing after the last of her blood was exsanguinated. Cuchulainn murmured to her, “You leaving?”

“Yeah. I’ll entrust… the Grail… to you. Good-bye… Cuchulainn… and Connla. I hope… the three of us… meet again… somewhere…”

Her body disintegrated into golden particles, leaving him to hold nothing except the Holy Grail that had been in her possession. He slowly got to his feet, then turned his languid gaze towards the four Servants. He let out a despondent sigh and grumbled, “Damn it. Seems I only get the bad women to flock to me. Medb was especially tenacious - only when she’s dying does she actually become decent. Still, she was a hell of a lot better than Aife. If things worked out differently, I bet Connla and Medb would have gotten along like sisters. That would have been nice for me to see.”

“Cuchulainn…” Ituha murmured. Fia merely stared at him, unable to understand what he was saying.

Rama stood tall and said, “This world’s ability to correct itself is getting slightly stronger. It must be because we destroyed the one who wished for Cuchulainn’s kingship. If we are to win, we must defeat the Mad King and erase the Clan Calatin once and for all! This is the last chance we have to save everything!”

Nightingale added, “This is it – the final operation to excise the greatest lesion infecting this world!”

“Well then,” Cuchulainn spun Gae Bolg about in his hands before pointing it at the group. “Now that we know what the stakes are, let’s get started with the killing.”

Ituha exclaimed, “Can’t you just hand the Grail over!? It’s pointless for us to fight anymore!”

“I cannot do that. Medb placed a geas on me so that I can’t relinquish it to our enemies. If you intend to seize it and create the miracle of ‘saving the world’, then you must do so over my dead body. Since you’ve rejected the world that Medb and I wanted for you, you have to fight to make the reality you want come true! Only by standing victorious will you be able to forge a new road of your own making! I do not stand here as your father, but as the final obstacle blocking your way to the future you seek! Destroy me and live! Or die by my hand and watch this world be incinerated!”

Fia hopped in front of the agitated Ituha and snarled at Cuchulainn. The Berserker could sense her father’s combat spirit being reignited and was ready to protect her ‘twin’ at a moment’s notice.

“Come on, then,” he taunted the heroes. “I’ll show you what happens when you pick a fight with an Ulster warrior!”

Everyone was ready with their weapons, and they all got into their combat stances.


	17. Why She Left

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 17: Why She Left**

Rama initiated what would become an intensely chaotic battle by charging at Cuchulainn and striking his sword against Gae Bolg numerous times. Both men became whirlwinds of movement and weapon strikes, making it difficult for the other three Servants to back up their ally. Although Rama had the advantage in finesse and accuracy, Cuchulainn’s brute strength was almost too much for the Indian hero to tolerate. The king planted his spear into the ground and vaulted over it to kick Rama, which he narrowly blocked. Cuchulainn wasn’t just strong however; he was amazingly deft at remaining in midair after Rama kicked his spear and tried to back away. Cuchulainn stabbed his lance right into the spot where his opponent was at, grazing half of his body with a thin line that cut through his clothes and left a vertical gash along his chest.

Ituha hurled dozens of fireballs at Cuchulainn to beat him away from the wounded Rama. The Archer charged the largest stone she had with an Ansuz Rune and slung it at the irate warrior, but he shouted, _“Not this time!”_

He smashed Gae Bolg down on the rock and forced it to detonate in the ground, then he rushed at Ituha. His mighty form looked absolutely intimidating compared to her small stature, and she almost fell backwards from shock. Fia caught Ituha in her arms and leapt away moments before Cuchulainn violently pierced the ground where they previously were. While he was preoccupied, Nightingale got in and raised her leg over his neck, then bashed her ankle on his upper back. The crater caused by her tremendous might was quite impressive, and he thought some of his bones broke under the pressure.

He ignored the crippling pain however and immediately got back up to grab Nightingale’s throat and shove her right into that same crater with a vicious shove. Fia intercepted him before he could kill Nightingale, and the two Berserkers got into another wild battle frenzy. After a short while, she leapt backwards against the wall, then shoved herself off to propel towards Cuchulainn like a rocket. He blocked her advance and caused her to lose her momentum, flinging in the air helplessly.

 ** _“GRAGH!”_** Cuchulainn howled as he smashed his elbow against Fia’s back, slamming her face-first onto the pavement. The horribly battered girl had no strength left to try and escape from him as he raised Gae Bolg in a stabbing position.

“Not good!” Rama yelped in a panic. He and Nightingale rushed in to help her, but they wouldn’t be able to make it in time. Ituha screamed and hurried to her other self’s side.

_We can’t defeat him like this! No… I can’t save anyone like this! Fia, please! Give me your strength! I want to be as strong as you!_

She thrust her body over Fia’s to act as a shield, embracing her tightly. Cuchulainn was just feet away from gouging both of them through.

That was when a miracle occurred.

A sudden uproar of fierce winds swirled around the two girls and blew the Berserker away with tremendous force. He couldn’t get back in to try killing them again, so he could only watch with a deep scowl as the tornado raged on in front of him. In the eye of the storm, the girls stared at each other with abject surprise, refusing to let go of each other’s hands.

No, that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t that they could let go. It felt more like they were melting into each other, symbiotically fusing into a single entity.

 _This feeling…_ Ituha thought. An intense pang of nostalgia and depression overcame her mind as Fia’s mind flowed into hers. Ituha froze in place as her memories started to come back bit by bit. The images she recalled weren’t coherent at first, but soon she began to realize who she was and what happened to make her this way.

_I remember now…_

An important memory that she had lost resurfaced. It was the moment when the course of the war changed – a crucial decision that seemed small at first, but then snowballed into something much grander than she would ever comprehend. It was akin to the theory of a butterfly’s innocently flapping wings influencing the formation of a great tornado weeks later.

* * *

_A week before Connla’s escape…_

The day began as any other – a cool morning of overcast grey clouds and a light sprinkle of rain. The winter days were subsiding, making way for the early days of much nicer spring weather. Connla woke up early and decided to go to her favorite spot for some quiet studying. She carried an oversized mathematical physics textbook, since she had become interested in understanding the theory of relativity and how she could apply it practically. It was an extremely difficult subject for the vast majority of children her age to even pronounce, never mind understand. Her tutors were growing concerned with her abnormally rapid development at the sacrifice of a proper childhood, but Cuchulainn had ordered them to let her do as she pleased when it came to studying.

Connla glanced back a couple of times to see if she was being followed, but she didn’t sense anyone nearby. She headed for the Vermeil Room on the first floor of the White House, typically used as a storage room in this age. In the future, it would be utilized as a social room decorated with polished silver-gilt tableware (or vermeil). Since it wasn’t used much by the Celts, Connla liked to retreat here and read without anyone disturbing her.

As she passed through the center hall, she came upon Arjuna who was staring out the window with a distant expression. She didn’t know him very well since he proved to be as aloof as she was, so she didn’t say anything to him and gently turned the doorknob to not make any noise.

Suddenly, Arjuna murmured, “Something’s going to happen.”

“Hm?” Connla looked up at him.

“I suggest you return to the second floor.”

“Why?”

“Medb is fooling around with the Holy Grail again.”

Both of them knew what this meant. The only thing the queen enjoyed more than the apathetic Cuchulainn was the miracles that the Grail could grant her. She had tested its effects on multiple occasions, leading to the guards having to subdue all sorts of unholy beasts and unspeakable creatures born from her sinister imagination. Connla swallowed nervously, then nodded. Before she could take a step though, both Servants felt a powerful tremor rocking the White House. Then another. Then another.

“Wh-What the-!?” the child squeaked.

When she looked out the window, that was when she saw something that didn’t belong there. A gigantic reptilian eyeball peeked through the glass and stared directly at her. The eye blinked a couple of times, then disappeared as the creature raised its head.

“It can’t be!” Arjuna yelped, shielding the terrified Connla behind him. “Is that a-!?”

**_“GRAAA~AAA~AAAHHH!”_ **

The monster’s incredible roar shattered every window in the vicinity, spraying glass all over the place. Arjuna spent no time being shocked, being concerned with destroying whatever had been summoned so it wouldn’t cause any more damage. He hopped through a broken window and readied his bow to confront the creature, which turned out to be a fully grown dragon. He found Fergus already fighting the beast, trying to distract it from damaging the building any further.

“Gh! That crazy queen really knows how to bring nightmares to life!” the Saber grunted, then jumped away as the dragon slammed its foot on the ground.

“You say that, yet you’re quite attracted to her,” Arjuna quipped while firing electric light arrows at the beast.

“She might be a nasty woman, but I’m a carnal bastard. I love beauty in all its forms.”

“I wouldn’t know of such worldly desires.”

While the two men were bickering, the dragon swept its tail and knocked them aside with little effort. It turned its attention back to the White House, and Arjuna screamed, “No, you don’t!”

Before the Archer could strike again, that was when Gae Bolg shot through the air like a dart and pierced the dragon’s ribcage in a huge spray of blood. Both Servants saw Cuchulainn hurrying toward the scene with a furious expression, and he mentally commanded his spear to return to his hand. Without a word, the Mad King allowed his bestial rage to control him as he hacked, slashed, and gouged the monster’s thick hide into a bloody mess. It didn’t take long for the dragon to scream its death cry and disappear in a black haze. Once it was gone, the exhausted Servants could finally relax and assess the damage.

“God damn that woman,” Cuchulainn snarled. “Couldn’t she have done the summoning somewhere else?”

“Well, at least everything’s okay,” Fergus said.

Arjuna didn’t look so convinced. Fergus noticed his ally’s grim expression and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“That young girl was with me.”

“Young girl?”

“That one everyone calls the princess.”

Cuchulainn’s nerves seemed to freeze solid as he yelled, “Connla!?”

The trio went back inside to look for her. To their surprise, she only remained standing there hugging the textbook close to her chest. Her eyes appeared dull and lifeless, as if they were windows into an alternate dimension. She didn’t move, breathe, or even blink. She was as still as a statue. The sight was absolutely devastating to Cuchulainn.

“Hey! Are you all right!?” Fergus demanded.

Arjuna kneeled in front of Connla and quickly examined her. He replied, “She’s passed out, but is otherwise unharmed. The shock from seeking a fully-grown dragon must have been too much for her to handle.”

Cuchulainn sighed with relief, then carried her upstairs to her room. The Mad King could not bring himself to console his daughter when he should have kept her away from such horrific sights in the first place. That familiar sadness welled in his chest again, which only happened when he saw Connla enduring far more anguish than a child her age should be exposed to. He really was trying to be a father for her, but tragedies like this always kept getting in his way of repairing his relationship with her.

_I just keep screwing up, don’t I?_

He returned to the first floor and reunited with Fergus and Arjuna, who had found Medb and were scolding her.

“What in the world were you thinking!?” Fergus snapped angrily. “Your little experiment could have wrecked the place!”

“Oh, don’t be like that, darling,” Medb said nonchalantly. “If that happened, I can always use the Grail to wish for a bigger and better castle.”

“You’re incorrigible! Grail this, Grail that! That’s all you ever talk about anymore! That thing isn’t the solution to everything, you know!”

The queen giggled. “You’re just jealous, aren’t you? Besides, what would happen if you had the Grail instead? Wouldn’t you wish for a harem of beauties all for yourself?”

“Erk… T-That’s different-!”

“You make me laugh. Stop being such a hypocrite, or I might wish for you to go back to the Throne. What I do with the Holy Grail is my business. Isn’t that right, Cu?”

**_SLAP!_ **

Before anyone could react, Medb fell to the ground with a nasty red mark on her cheek. An absolutely livid Cuchulainn stood over her, his expression cold and fierce. It wasn’t often that people got to see him be violent towards Medb since they were supposed to be a cohesive unit as king and queen, so it was a real surprise for him to slap her cheek so viciously. Arjuna remained stone-faced as always, while Fergus looked appalled.

“Cu…?” she whimpered meekly, covering the swelling skin with her hand. “Oh, Cu… Have I done something to offend you, my king?”

“Stop screwing around with the Grail so much,” the man glowered. “It is our tool to win the war, not a toy for you to play with.”

“I wasn’t playing… I was testing to see its summoning capabilities…”

“Do you want Connla to live so she can inherit this land?”

“Of course I do! Connie is the embodiment of our hopes and dreams for a wonderful Celtic nation!”

“You say that, but your demented summonings are constantly putting her in danger. I could tolerate it before, but that dragon was the last straw. Mess up again and I’ll have your head on a platter for the dogs to feast on. Have I made myself clear?”

“Y-Yes, my king! Your words couldn’t be more transparent! As clear as pure crystal!”

“Get out of my sight, woman. Your pathetic face is making me sick.”

Medb scurried to her feet and hurried out of the courtyard back into the White House. The others were fearful of their lives as they watched the tense exchange. No one wanted to say anything that would earn them the Mad King’s unbridled wrath.

Cuchulainn told Arjuna, “I’m gonna get some sleep. Make sure Medb doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fergus, check on the kid once in a while.”

“Got it. Uncle Fergus will make sure she’s okay,” the swordsman smiled.

* * *

After Cuchulainn made sure Connla was okay, he left her alone to rest. No one else saw her for the remainder of the day. Although she was lying in bed, she couldn’t get any sleep at all. That dreadful, heavy feeling would not subside no matter what techniques she used to calm down. She grew tired of trying and headed up to the viewing platform on the roof. Although she was only wearing her white night gown, she didn’t care about the chilly wind billowing her hair and clothes.

As if in a trance, Connla headed straight for the balustrade and climbed up without a second thought. Her bare feet and toes hugged the railing’s curvature, and she gazed out into the distance. Although her body did nothing, her mind raced everywhere in random directions. She was being pulled from all sides, and she didn’t know which one to pick.

_I feel so sick…_

The child was beginning to feel light-headed, and a sleepy sensation threatened to make her close her eyes involuntarily.

“There you are!”

A man’s deep voice boomed, snapping Connla awake. She looked back to find Fergus approaching her. She didn’t know him very well, but she was aware of him being one of Cuchulainn’s many parental figures growing up. He was like that congenial uncle that all of the nieces and nephews wanted to hang out with, so he was one of the few Celts she wasn’t really afraid of.

“What are you up to, missy?” he asked.

“I was, uh… Um… I was… looking at the stars.”

“From way up here? You can always go outside and look at ground level. There’s no need to gaze from such a dangerous place.”

“Oh, well… I just wanted some fresh air… A-And the soldiers were roaming about, so I didn’t want to bother them.”

“Good point,” Fergus frowned. “Even if they’re supposed to be our allies, they’ll snap at any small provocation. Anyway, come on down from there. It’s not a safe place for you to play in, okay?”

“Mm,” Connla replied and jumped down from the rail. He took her hand and guided her back to her room, but quietly glanced back at the sky and made a disturbing thought:

_It’s completely cloudy outside._

* * *

Once Fergus made sure Connla had gone back to bed, he headed downstairs to look for Cuchulainn. After some searching, he found him sitting at one of the window sills boredly looking outside at the cloudy night sky.

“There you are,” Fergus said.

“Hm? What do you want?” the listless king grumbled darkly.

“What, not in the mood to have a little chat with one of your personal caretakers, Setanta?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t call me by that name. Or are you asking me to kill you?”

“No, no, I’ll save my inevitable death for the battlefield. I only wanted to say something important to you.”

“I’ll bet it’s just more of your pointless gibberish. Stop wasting my time already.”

“I’m not fooling around. This is serious.”

Cuchulainn glared. It was very rare to see the congenial swordsmen and one of his father figures act so grim.

“… What is it?” he asked.

Fergus leaned in to whisper something into his foster son’s ear. After a moment, Cuchulainn’s thin eyes widened to the size of saucers in absolute alarm.

“I just thought you should know,” Fergus muttered and began to walk away.

The king remained rooted to the spot for a short while. Then he replied, “Fine. I’ll do something about it.”

“You’d better. I raised you like a father would. Now it’s your turn to do the same for her.”

* * *

The following morning, Connla woke up and stretched her incredibly tense muscles. She barely got any sleep during the night, so she was practically running on fumes as she tiredly shuffled out of bed and made herself some coffee. The bitter flavor of Viennese roast washed away the acrid taste of hunger and perked her up a bit. All she needed was some breakfast, and she would be ready for the day despite not having enough sleep in her.

Connla got dressed and took a novel with her, feeling too tired to do the intense studying she had been interested in yesterday. After that scare with the dragon and what she was doing on the balcony last night, she didn’t have any energy to care about much else than just robotically going through the motions of each passing day.

As she came downstairs to ask one of the servants for some food, she found Cuchulainn standing on the last step purposely waiting for her.

“You’re up,” he said.

“…”

“How are you feeling?”

“… Exhausted.”

“You sure look like it. I’ve already chewed Medb out for that stunt she pulled. It won’t happen again, unless she doesn’t mind winding up in a body bag.”

“I see.”

Cuchulainn sighed. He hoped she would say something about it first, but she remained silent, intent on trying to dodge the issue. He muttered, “I heard about what happened on the balcony.”

“From Uncle Fergus, I presume?”

“Yeah. He told me everything… especially about how you tried to kill yourself.”

Connla inhaled sharply. Her fatigue immediately disappeared. She thought she had fooled Fergus with the whole ‘gazing at the sky’ line, but he must have seen through her half-hearted lie and recognized what she really was trying to do.

“T-That’s silly,” she tried to object. “There’s no way I’d do something like that.”

“Don’t lie to me,” her father commanded. “You’ve been acting distant ever since you arrived in this country. You either coop yourself in your room, or refuse to talk to anyone when you’re out. On top of that, every time Medb summons a monster, you become fearful and quiet. That dragon yesterday was the final nail on the coffin, wasn’t it?”

Connla sullenly tilted her head to the side and looked away from him, not wanting to acknowledge his accusation. He sighed, then kneeled in front of her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I know I’m not the Cuchulainn that you remember,” he said. “It’s all because of Medb’s deranged wish that I have materialized as such a psychotic bastard. I am the ideal king that she seeks to both follow without question and to grasp in her hands like a toy. I’m sure she’ll get bored and discard me someday for some other sap unfortunate enough to catch her attention.

“But make no mistake; no matter what form I am summoned as, no matter how twisted and unrecognizable I may be to you, I am still your father. Everyone else in your life may have treated you like shit, but I will do everything in my power to make sure you don’t suffer in silence anymore. If there’s something you want to say, I’ll listen. If there is someone threatening your life, I’ll destroy them. If you’re unhappy about something, then tell me and I’ll fix it.”

“But… But if anyone goes against you, they’ll…” Connla murmured softly, almost on the verge of crying. “I… I can’t tell you. If I told you how I really feel, you’ll kill me. That’s the kind of person… you’ve become…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I may be cold and treacherous, but that’s only on the battlefield. My emotions are often empty, and I don’t really give a damn about anything other than finding my next opponent. But lately I’ve been feeling a tinge of grief every time I see you. Medb and I have been taking over this country so that the three of us can forge a new nation under our Celtic flag. You know that, yet you don’t look thrilled at the prospect of reviving our long-gone glory.”

She bit her lower lip to fight the tears, but her sorrow was much too evident to Cuchulainn at this point. She hiccupped several times and trembled.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

The little girl sobbed and wiped her eyes for a minute. Once she calmed down, she managed to moan, “I-Is this… really for Celtic glory?”

“Hm?”

“You say it’s to revive our nation, yet Queen Medb is conjuring all kinds of things that you’d see in a horrible nightmare. It just feels so… mismatched. How in the world can summoning war-hungry soldiers, dragons, wyverns and Shadow Servants lead to any kind of prosperity? I don’t sense any trace of humanity in her army - all those creatures know is how to destroy. At this rate, all that’ll be left is a complete wasteland full of dead bodies, and you would stand above them all, covered in blood and gore as you howl like some angry beast, signifying the end of the world.

“If America is the only country left… then… then you and Queen Medb just want to hasten this planet’s imminent death, not revive any kind of past glory. All of this talk about taking over America so I can have a happy future is a lie. If nothing is done, there will be no future worth speaking of anymore. My happiness is just an excuse for you and Queen Medb to go on a killing spree. I don’t like being used as a reason for you to commit so many atrocities.”

“…”

“But I know… I know that there’s nothing I can do to change either of you,” Connla’s lips tightened into a long frown. “The queen is who she is, and you’re a man who looks like Father but doesn’t act like him. Meanwhile, I’m a weak little girl in a completely strange world, surrounded by people I don’t recognize, unable to change anything about this world’s inevitable decline. All I can do is passively play my role as a ‘princess’ and fulfill my part of Medb’s fantasy, whether I want to or not. It’s so frustrating… even though it’s the truth…”

Cuchulainn fell into absolute silence as he listened to his daughter’s grievances. He had no idea she was feeling this way. Her kind, mature approach to the world around her greatly disturbed him, as he believed she shouldn’t have to worry about such things when she was only seven years old. She had every right to be innocent and naïve - he thought that such qualities would make her the ideal kind-hearted princess for their Celtic nation. Her attitude wasn’t matching up to the image he had of her though. Maybe she felt like she had to be this way because all of the adults around her were being selfish brats, so she needed to balance it out with reason and objectivity.

“Come with me,” he took her hand and guided her out to the garden. It was approaching first light, so the sun began to rise over the horizon. Brilliant shades of red, pink, orange and purple painted the sky until blue reigned as the dominant color. Gazing upon such soothing scenery made it impossible for anyone nearby to image that a bloody war was going on deeper in the country. After some silence, Cuchulainn finally said, “I will give you the chance to decide on two options.”

“Huh?”

“The first is that you can remain here by my side and witness how this war will play out. Of course, you’re not happy with sitting back and hoping things will get better on their own. If you’re that determined to bring that change with your own power, then you have a second choice.”

He raised his arm and pointed toward the western horizon as he said, “You can join the United Western States in their uprising against us.”

Connla was so stunned that she forgot to breathe for a moment. “Join… the enemy…?”

“If that’s where your conviction lies, then you may do as you wish,” he calmly assured. Right then, a grin laced with sharp teeth etched across his face as he warned, “However, be aware that there will be consequences with either decision. If you decide to stay, you will have to toil with those emotions and fret about this world’s future until the war ends, although it means you will be safe from our enemies. If you decide to go… I’m sure you understand what that will mean.”

She knew what he was implying. Her full understanding of the situation was almost terrifying. Under her breath, she whispered, “I’d be committing treason…”

“Yeah. I can guarantee you, I will pursue you with no remorse as the benefactor you defected from.”

Father and daughter would become mortal enemies on the battlefield. The prospect filled the child with immense dread. She had no idea if she was strong enough to fight him on equal grounds. She sincerely doubted it though. If the man was powerful as a Lancer, then he was almost like a Phantasmal-level monster as a Berserker. Even if she did have his permission to leave the Celtic army, that didn’t mean she would be safe from his notorious bloodlust. If she wasn’t careful, she’d wind up as just another corpse lining the empty fields.

“You don’t have to decide right away. Give it some time and thought,” Cuchulainn said, noticing how pale Connla looked. She shuddered, so he placed his hand on her shoulder and urged, “You’re exhausted. Relax for a while.”

He brought her back inside, and he left her be for the rest of the day. From there, it would take a week for Connla to make her decision of leaving the White House and journeying westward to Denver.

* * *

_The present…_

Ituha and Fia stared at each other in surprise while their bodies melded together. They began to lose their individualities, and they soon shared the same thought.

_That’s right. I’m not an Archer or a Berserker. I’m a Lancer… the Mad King’s daughter, and the so-called Celtic Princess. My name is…_

The reunion was complete. Ituha and Fia were no more. In their place was someone else who would carry the fight on in their stead. As the hurricane started to slow down, Cuchulainn found his chance to dash in again for the kill. This time though, he was met with furious resistance, signaled only by flashing white sparks that Rama and Nightingale couldn’t make out through the dusty winds. After a few seconds of clashing, Cuchulainn was violently ejected backwards and skidded across the White House grounds on his back. He seethed in pain and fury as he stumbled back to his feet.

The storm quieted down, revealing a short-statured silhouette wielding a spear hiding behind the dust. Once it settled, the others finally got a good look at the Celtic Princess’ original form. The little girl wore a familiar mint green bodysuit with white Runic patterns, accented by a white shawl and skirt kept up with a leather belt. She wore thick brown gloves and knee boots, and a small metal breastplate. Her spear wasn’t impressive in itself, but it had a sharp metal tip and a pink tassel tied to the other end. Her short lavender hair was kept back in a low ponytail tied with a large pink orb.

“Hm…” Cuchulainn mumbled. For an instant, it looked like his insatiable anger was subsiding. “So you managed to reconstitute yourself.”

“I apologize for making you so sad, Father,” the little girl replied. “I did not expect that seeing the truth about this war would cause so much damage to my Spirit Origin. My ‘death’ must have angered you to no end, even though we had that conversation before I abandoned the Celtic forces.”

“…”

“To be honest, things are still a little hazy, but I’m certain of what I need to do now.”

“And what would that be?”

The child stood in an elegant pose with her polearm and declared, “To raise my spear in defense of this world’s future.”

“How absurd. There is nothing worth defending anymore. You may have revived, but since you committed treason against your king, I have no choice but to kill you and commit your corpse to the ground, along with everyone else who has resisted my path of destruction.”

“Your ruinous rampage ends here. I have grown tired of feeling sorry for myself and hoping that things will turn for the better. Even if it means my true death, I will fight, so that I have no further regrets about hesitating to stand for what I believe in. That’s the decision I’ve made, and I will struggle to my utmost against the consequences you warned me about.”

“Heh… heh heh…” Cuchulainn chuckled bitterly. From Rama and Nightingale’s perspectives though, he didn’t look to be angry or disappointed. He seemed rather… proud? The Mad King muttered, “Guess you and I were meant to be foils for each other, no matter what world we’re summoned in together. That’s fine. So long as you’re ready, then I accept your challenge-“

He gripped his spiked Gae Bolg, and the pair pointed their spears at each other simultaneously.

**_“CONNLA!”_ **


	18. Into the Mouth of Hell

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 18: Into the Mouth of Hell**

“Amazing…” was all Rama could utter.

“So this is the true Child of Cuchulainn,” Nightingale murmured.

They said this while observing the deadly match between the corrupted Child of Light and his only child. They weren’t familiar with Connla’s original legend, but they could see how she was the daughter of probably the world’s strongest and most tenacious Lancer. With her Spirit Origin finally reconstituted, it was like the heroes had their own Cuchulainn to make up for the enemy being the original. Connla certainly wasn’t as strong as her father, but her reaction times and evasion abilities easily kept Cuchulainn on his toes despite possessing the power to destroy gods.

Connla hopped, jumped and slashed about furiously, fighting on a reactionary basis to avoid Cuchulainn’s mighty spear swings. Her petite stature made most believe that it was impossible for such a diminutive little girl to hold her own against a massive beast, but she proved that assumption wrong because her small frame actually made it easier for her to duck under Gae Bolg’s deadly swipes while targeting his exposed lower half with spear stabs and magic. Her movements resembled dancing more than regular dodges, which frustrated Cuchulainn and enraged him further.

After she blocked another attack, she flipped backwards to reunite with Rama and Nightingale. She breathed hard, and the nurse healed several small wounds she had sustained during the fierce scuffle. The woman remarked, “Don’t push yourself. You’re still too young to be fighting so seriously.”

“I can’t let that slow me down, Ms. Nightingale. I have to go all out, or die trying. If I retreat, I’ll be breaking one of my geasa.”

“Ituha… No, my mistake. You’re Connla now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have all of your memories back?”

“I do. I remember everything, including what I did as Ituha and Fia-Leanbh.”

“Wonderful. Then I’m happy to report that you’ve been discharged as my patient.”

“Thank you for all of your help. So then, are you going to be treating Father now?”

“Naturally,” Nightingale said and stood in front of the child Lancer. “He is still deathly ill and needs an emergency operation. We three each have our roles – I am the surgeon, Rama is the knife, and Connla is the medicine. Let’s fight as hard as we can and bring this man back to full health!”

“Now there’s a task I can get behind,” Rama smirked.

Cuchulainn’s shoulders shuddered as he started laughing at Nightingale’s absurd allegory. He muttered, “Now there’s a first. I’ve sustained injuries that can break lesser men’s spirits, but I don’t recall ever getting sick.”

“That’s where you and Edison are different,” Nightingale retorted. “He had the courage to admit that he was ill. The same can’t be said for you.”

“Why should I? I am who I am – wicked and immoral, like Medb. There’s no need to keep someone like me alive.”

“Your daughter doesn’t seem to think so. If even one person wants you saved, then it’s my job to make that wish a reality.”

He stared at the worried Connla, then smirked, “Fine. If it’s for her, then fight me with everything you have. Hold nothing back. Be as cruel and relentless as you’d like. If you don’t, you will die.”

“Here he comes!”

Cuchulainn reared his legs back, then sprinted straight for the trio. Connla and Nightingale suddenly split up, and Cuchulainn saw too late the glowing halo over Rama’s hand as he prepared his Noble Phantasm while behind his allies. The crackling disc smashed against Cuchulainn’s midsection and hurled him backwards across the courtyard, leaving behind a deep gash along the earth. He roared and destroyed the massive projectile with Gae Bolg before rushing back in at Rama and delivering a tremendous punch to his jaw. As the Indian hero pounded across the pavement, Nightingale switched in and engaged in the fiercest boxing match of her life with him. Both warriors clenched their teeth and glared at each other like devils, and the ground around them cratered from the incredible forces emanating from their countless blows.

Cuchulainn tried to punch her face, but suddenly found his arms constricted when Connla leapt onto his back and wrapped her arms and legs around his armpits and chest like a spider. He snarled and jammed his elbow against her side, damaging her viscera so badly that she spit blood between her clenched teeth.

“NGH!” she gasped, but the pain only incited her to hold on tighter.

“MWAAAAH!” Nightingale shrieked and dug her fist right into Cuchulainn’s belly. Hideous couldn’t begin to describe how contorted his expression looked as he puked blood all over Nightingale’s clothes. Despite the incredible torment he was enduring, he tightly grabbed Connla’s arm and whipped her around, knocking her against Nightingale and throwing the two females away in a violent tumble. Although Nightingale collapsed onto her back, Connla recovered and scurried along the pavement to return to Cuchulainn. He readied Gae Bolg and stabbed straight at her head, but she expertly twirled under and slashed at his forearm, creating a long gash along the skin.

While focused on Connla, he didn’t notice Rama until he jumped in and kicked his jaw. Cuchulainn screamed and swung Gae Bolg in a blinding flurry of crimson wind, slicing and dicing everything in the cursed spear’s path. Connla and Rama did an amazing job of blocking each and every strike that threatened to kill them, moving their weapons and bodies just as quickly and furiously as Cuchulainn was.

“JUMP!” Rama shouted at Connla.

The Mad King made one last horizontal swing that would have cleaved them to pieces, but they hopped over it simultaneously. The shockwave alone cut through trees and pillars like they weren’t even there, causing them to collapse. Then without warning, Cuchulainn’s upper back was sent flying forward, and he fell right on his face. Nightingale had tackled him with a powerful dropkick, allowing her comrades to land back on their feet without fear of a counterattack. The trio stood side-to-side as they waited for their enemy to get back up and fight them again.

“GWAAAAH!” Cuchulainn let out an otherworldly snarl and got back up into a javelin throwing position, then hurled Gae Bolg at them without using his Noble Phantasm.

“Gah!?” Connla gasped as she and her allies split apart to avoid being decimated. Just as quickly as he would retrieve the weapon, he would hurl it again with the force of a fired cannon at anyone he saw, blasting the grounds around the White House with glowing scarlet craters. The pain from throwing Gae Bolg with such colossal might tore him apart over and over again, but he didn’t care anymore. He was so insulted from these three measly Servants making a fool out of him that he wanted them to _die_. His entire form seemed to change in response to his anger, granting him a torn black mantle fitting for a diabolical king.

Nightingale somersaulted away from an explosion, but Cuchulainn caught up to her and grabbed her face before smashing it and her upper body right into the dirt. Faster than one could blink, he left her lying there and chased after Rama. They dueled with their weapons again, but the Saber was no match for his enemy’s insanity and lost his grip on his sword. Cuchulainn swung Gae Bolg down upon Rama’s neck, leaving him in the same agonizing state as Nightingale. Cuchulainn looked around for Connla, but he couldn’t find her anywhere.

“Is she inside…?” he muttered to himself and tried to investigate. However, he felt an unusual tug around his ankle that preventing him from walking, and he looked down with a snarl. Rama had both of his arms wrapped around Cuchulainn’s foot and lower leg to immobilize him. The Mad King grit his teeth and stomped his other foot right on Rama’s face, breaking his nose and bruising his eye shut.

“YAAH!”

The unexpected scream directed Cuchulainn’s attention towards Connla, who was flying toward him while propelled by a small hurricane wrapped around her body. She brandished not her usual wooden spear, but a small hunting knife that she aimed at his shoulder. The short blade gouged through the muscle. He didn’t even notice the glow coming from the knife, stunned from staring into his young daughter’s frenzied eyes

“What are you doing!?” he yelled.

“You’ll soon find out!”

Then a familiar symbol shone on the blade’s hilt, and its energy transferred from the blade directly into his bloodstream. He widened his eyes and clenched his teeth in absolute horror.

_“You wouldn’t-!”_

With tears rolling down her face, she screamed at the top of her lungs, **_“ANSUZ!”_**

With that fateful incantation, Connla and Cuchulainn were engulfed in an eruption of fire and ashes. The scorching winds blew everywhere, and the world around them trembled violently.

* * *

Elizabeth screamed and squeezed her eyes shut, prepared to join Nero in death. However, the pain and agony she was expecting never came.

“Uh…? Am I… okay?” she whimpered, then looked up.

Standing between her and the Demon Pillar that would have killed her was Edison, his body sparking with electricity. The creature backed away a bit, but remained hovering above the pair.

“It truly is difficult to stand up and fight,” the Presi-King murmured. “But one becomes a hero by treading past that despair countless times. If I allowed a young lady such as yourself to shoulder that burden, I would have been a disgrace to America! Now, I’ll show you abominations what a real heroic figure looks like!”

He raised his arms and shouted, **_“World Faith Domination!”_**

He unleashed his Noble Phantasm upon the nearest Demon Pillars, causing them to suffer massive injuries from the great explosion of light and colors. Elizabeth gasped at the spectacle and exclaimed, “That’s amazing! With that kind of power, my live concert can shine brighter than before! Glitter! Sparkles! Colors! Glow sticks! Dragons! It’s got it all!”

“I never thought my inventions would be used for such a thing…”

“Excellent. Edison has returned to fight with us,” Helena said. “But even if all of us fought together, who knows how many minutes we could last. If only there was something that could give us an advantage…”

True to her word, though the Servants fought as valiantly as they could, it was genuinely impossible for only six warriors to go against 28 Demon Pillars at once. Beowulf tried to sever one from the ground, but another tentacle smacked him aside like he wasn’t even there. Li Shuwen stabbed his lance into another pillar’s eyes, but it didn’t seem bothered and hurled him away.

“Tch! Something of this size is difficult to strike chi into!” he growled as he landed back on his feet.

“This is ridiculous,” Edison stated. “I have to do something… If only I could evacuate everyone…”

“You idiot! What would be the point of that!?” Elizabeth shouted. “I can still… fight…!”

“No!” he caught her as she teetered on her feet. “You cannot move anymore. You must leave at once!”

“But-!”

“If you stay, you will get caught in the blast!”

“Blast?”

“Hey, Blavatsky! Take care of everyone for me!”

“What are you-!?” Helena tried to ask, but then saw that Edison was gathering a huge amount of energy in his chest plate. She panicked, “Are you going to self-destruct!?”

“Don’t try to stop me! This is the only thing I can think of!” he screamed desperately. “I have a duty to protect everyone, even if it’s only for a short while! I’ll give my life for that purpose, if I have to! Not because I am the Presi-King, or a Servant, or even Thomas Alva Edison! _It is because I am human!_ ”

 ** _“Edison!”_** everyone else screamed in unison.

The world around them turned bright. Everyone was silent for several agonizing long moments.

“… Hm?” the Presi-King murmured in confusion.

The others were likewise as baffled. All of the energy he had been storing up fizzled into nothing. No, that wasn’t quite it – it was more accurate to say that someone else took that power from him and directed it as a current towards the Demon Pillars. Each tentacle acted as a temporary conduit to pass along the millions of volts to each other, stunning all of them for a short while.

“Wh… What just happened?” Robin Hood wondered.

Then, they soon heard it. An unfamiliar man arrogantly laughed over the stunned crowd and boasted, “Hah hah hah hah hah hah! How unsightly of you, Edison! Indeed, you are an ordinary man unfit to stand before me! Revere my name in shame, then be gone from my sight!”

Edison’s white fur began to stand on end as he recognized that irritating laugh and pontificating tone. He snarled, “This disgusting voice… And that shameless countenance… D-Don’t tell me…”

“Of course I’ll tell you! I am the true pioneer of the stars, the one and only genius who fathered the modern era! I am-!”

_“Mr. Hysteric!”_

“ _Tesla, you fool! I’m Nikola Tesla!”_

“No way!” Helena screeched in disbelief. “Nikola Tesla is here!?”

The black-haired man wearing a purple-and-grey outfit approached his eternal rival with crossed arms and declared, “Indeed! I am a man blessed with as much impeccable timing as innate genius! Even so, I cannot ignore the plight that has befallen this land which I shall forge my legend upon! HOWEVER! Make no mistake, Thomas Alva Edison! Even if I was summoned a thousand times, I would never, EVER help you! I am only doing this for my own self-benefit! This era is crying for a real hero, and I was summoned for this monumental task! How honored I am! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

“Grrrrgh… That atrocious laugh… It’s like he’s been practicing it in front of a mirror every day!” Edison trembled. “Don’t mess with me, Tesla! You’re just an eccentric that stood out!”

“If I am an eccentric, then you are sinfully ordinary! Just a common man who used geniuses like myself to further his own manipulative career!”

“I am a CEO! Without CEOs, geniuses would only be seen as the world’s laughingstocks! How can someone as brilliant as you not understand something so basic!?”

“Okay, gentlemen, we get it already. You’re both incredible men,” Helena stopped their childish bickering. “Right now, we need to focus on reality! Not even the power of electricity can stop these things.”

“Stop them? Surely you jest, Madame Blavatsky,” Tesla said. “Our job is not to defeat them. We only need to seal them away long enough for the little princess and her guardians to kill that lunatic king. Once he’s dead, the Clan Calatin will disappear, and victory will be ours.”

“An electric cage,” Edison realized. “But even if we tried to, our individual power output won’t be enough to restrain all of the Demon Pillars at once.”

“Gh… Stop stealing words out of my mouth, you ordinary cur! I was just getting to that!”

“Liar.”

“The fact remains that I have the higher power output. All I need you to do is to overload with your Noble Phantasm, then I will use mine to transfer both of our electrical outputs onto the Demon Pillars. That will create a conduit and paralyze all of them.”

“That’ll be enough lighting to kill an immortal monster until the end of time! Very well! Here goes nothing!”

Edison activated his ultimate attack again, while Tesla raised his arm to generate a halo of raw electricity. It fed off of Edison’s lightning and grew stronger by the second, practically turning into a supernova of pure voltage.

“Thunder and lightning, descend from the heavens!” Tesla shouted.

“Bring light to this world that has plunged into darkness!” Edison added.

**_“System Keuranos!”_ **

**_“World Faith Domination!”_ **

A mighty current swept through the Demon Pillars like blood rushing through vessels. None of the monsters could escape the intolerable amounts of lighting coursing through them, and the electricity jolted them so much that they writhed uncontrollably.

“Kgh…” Edison gasped, exhausted from using all of his power. “So… Now what do we do?”

“Fool!” Tesla barked. “I already told you! Our job is to only hold them back! I must admit that even though I am the face of the modern era, sometimes even ancient relics still have their uses.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Wait!” Helena shouted. “I’m sensing a huge amount of Ether being gathered!”

Then the group heard another man’s voice calmly declare, “Expanding sacred domain… Secured. Setting divine punishment enforcement limits… Calculating amount of time needed for energy convergence and acceleration… Counting down.”

Robin remembered hearing that voice before and exclaimed, “It’s Arjuna!”

The dark-skinned man, who had abandoned the Celts’ cause after Cuchulainn killed Karna, was hovering high above the shocked Demon Pillars. An eerie aqua-colored wind swirled around him, then converged over his hand as a tiny white light. Although it looked small, it easily had the power to decimate several kilometers of land around it.

“I suggest you all evacuate as soon as possible,” the Archer told the other Servants. “I will try to keep the scale to a minimum, but you will not survive if you remain here.”

“What about you?” Elizabeth asked.

“I will sacrifice myself for this attack. I have no need to hold back any longer. My Divine Construct will rain Heaven’s wrath upon these demons.”

“Gah! We have to run! We’ll be consumed by it if we don’t!” Robin shuddered.

Arjuna waited for the others to retreat as far as they could, then flung the ball of light over the Demon Pillars and shouted, “By the rage of Shiva, your life ends here! **_Pashupata!_** ”

The starry light grew bigger and stronger by the millisecond, until the entire area was swallowed in a brilliant white supernova.

* * *

Back at the White House, a large section of the ground had been gutted out, turning into a makeshift hearth of crackling flames and rising plumes of smoke.

“Agh…! C-Connla! _Connla!_ ” Rama shouted, coughing after inhaling some bitter fumes.

To his relief, he found the young girl kneeling and gasping heavily, but otherwise unharmed. The smoke dissipated enough for the heroes to see Cuchulainn standing in a wobbled position. A huge burn mark was left behind where Connla’s knife had been, and a lot of blood seeped out of the wound. The Mad King’s Spirit Origin was starting to collapse from all of the effort expended to make himself stronger, along with the massive damage he took from the three Heroic Spirits. Connla’s last attack caused such grievous injuries that it would be impossible for him to recover – his insides were literally roasted, and his cooked skin sizzled. He fell onto one knee and coughed up a tremendous amount of blood.

“Yes! We did it!” Rama smiled triumphantly. “We have finally defeated Cuchulainn!”

Although she had landed the decisive blow, Connla grew worried for the fallen Ulster hero, and she timidly approached him while moaning, “Father…”

Nightingale immediately grabbed her wrist and shouted, “No! He’s still too dangerous!”

“But…”

“Ggh,” Cuchulainn gasped. Then, even though he looked as defeated as could be, he smirked and glared at the trio with defiant red eyes. “My dream of creating a country for you is finished. At last, this stifling role as a king is over…”

He teetered back to his feet, then declared, “Before I’m done though, I have one last test of courage to give to you all.”

The exasperated Rama exclaimed, “You mean there’s more!?”

“Have you forgotten? I still have the Holy Grail.”

“This can’t be!”

“Right. I still need to summon the Demon God guarding the Grail, and become one with it.”

Connla couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Cuchulainn cupped his hand and made the Holy Grail appear. He looked into her despairing eyes, then murmured, “I promise that this is the last obstacle. Defeat the Demon God causing this world’s incineration, and you will save everyone.”

“No, don’t do it!” she pleaded.

He grinned. It wasn’t an arrogant smirk, but one of pride and confidence in her abilities. All he could say to her was, “Good luck…”

He raised the demonic chalice and shouted, “O Holy Grail, the ultimate vessel to make wishes come true! Manifest your true form! Remember your true name! Join with me, and rise as one of the 72 Demon Gods!”

A sinister light engulfed him, and sinewy white tendrils tore through the concrete that wrapped around his legs, slithering along his body like writhing snakes.

“This is ridiculous!” Rama groaned. “Ungh… I don’t have the energy to use my Noble Phantasm anymore…”

Connla cried and trembled, fixated on her father’s transformation into something unspeakable. Even though she was scared out of her wits, there also seemed to be a pang of nostalgia that hit her very core.

_I know this feeling. In some other world… In some other time… I saw Father morph into an inhuman creature right in front of me._

While the other two were lost in utter despair, Nightingale remained steadfast and declared, “I shall sever all that is toxic, all that is harmful! I shall do all in my power to guide people to the state of well-being! **Nightingale Pledge!** ”

Green ripples danced around her feet, and streaks of light rose all around her. Then the image of a giant nurse wielding a sword appeared above her and lowered its blade. The trio’s wounds immediately closed up, and they could feel a newfound energy revitalizing them.

“Stand strong, you two!” she declared. “Now is the time to save lives! Do not worry about your wounds – I shall treat them as many times as it takes! Once we emerge victorious, everything will return to the way it is meant to be!”

Rama nodded. “That’s right. We’ll fight as much as it takes. We’ll crush the outrageous, and overcome despair. This is the final battle!”

Connla couldn’t say any words of encouragement. She was too choked up from watching Cuchulainn’s abhorrent metamorphosis. The white pseudopodia completely engulfed his figure, and countless red eyes shaped like diamonds opened up as blinking tumors all along the demonic pillar of flesh and viscera.

 _“One of the 72 Demon God Pillars… Rank 38, the Demon of War, Halphas,”_ Cuchulainn’s disembodied voice echoed deeply from within the sickly husk. _“War is eternal. In order to cleanse the filth and make way for a new order of the ages, weapons are necessary. That which is old must be severed so that new life may prosper. That is why mortals are fated to fight for all eternity. It is a cycle that shall never cease.”_

“NO!” Nightingale objected. “No, no, no, no! I will deny it for all eternity! When the number of lives saved outnumber those lost, the deadly spiral of conflict will cease! If it refuses to grind to a halt on its own, then I’ll force it to stop with my own hands! That is my solemn duty, both as a nurse and as a Servant!”

Rama pointed his sword at Halphas and declared, “Humans are not slaves of war! If you can’t understand that, then be gone from this world, unholy creature! Even if we die and are brought back a thousand times over, we’ll never give up!”

 _“I exist to bestow conflict,”_ Halphas said coldly. _“I answered this man’s wish to give his child a future where innocent people would not suffer at the hands of monsters. To accomplish this, I gave him the power to eradicate those he deemed worthless to his cause, but the clean up was much larger than he anticipated. He called upon the flames of war to burn everything away, so that then his child could live in peace. However, the child did not accept his wish and rebelled against him, forcing him to give up his greatest hope and destroy everything for the sake of destruction.”_

“Father…” Connla sobbed.

_“The time for reclamation has come. I shall take all life away from this world and bestow it upon my master. Only then shall I set this man free and allow him to reunite with his child in death.”_

“Connla!” Rama exclaimed. “You need to stay strong! Don’t listen to anything that monstrosity says! If you believe you made the right decision in leaving the Celts, then stand tall and remain firm in that choice! Show your father your true conviction! It’s the only way to make him proud of you now!”

“… Mm.”

Halphas generated a blood-red shockwave that tore through the ground and rippled towards the trio. Their teeth rattled as the deep crimson energy rippled past them, tossing them aside. Connla flipped forth like a gymnast and jammed her spear into the monster’s flesh as deep as she could go. One of its eyes shone brightly before firing a laser that pummeled her back. Rama went around to the other side and slashed at its flesh, but a different set of eyes knocked him back with a separate volley of shots. Nightingale hoped to attack Halphas from a third angle while it was busy with the others. However, it could see 360 degrees all around and keep track of the Servants’ movements while forcing them back with powerful spells and attacks.

“Damn it! If only there were more Servants to help us out!” Rama snarled.

“They’re probably all busy with the Clan Calatin,” Nightingale said. “We must stay strong and wear this monstrosity down until they return!”

Connla grew concerned, knowing that Cuchulainn was still inside Halphas. Could he see what was going on as well? Was he watching her struggle for her life against his ultimate challenge? There was no way for her to know. Yet she only had one thought on her mind;

_Father… I want to get you out of there…_

She looked at the wounds they caused so far and noticed something unusual; they were not regenerating. Halphas was probably so arrogant that it didn’t bother healing, instead using its resources strictly for offense. Connla hurried over to Rama and asked, “Can you do me a favor?”

“What is it?”

“Can you throw your Noble Phantasm at the spot I just gouged out?”

“I can try, but what is that going to accomplish? It won’t be enough to sever the Demon Pillar.”

“Just trust me, please.”

“All right.”

Rama made his sword float upon his hand, then transformed it into the familiar white cutting halo.

 ** _“Brahmastra!”_** he exclaimed and hurled it at the spot Connla indicated. It sliced open the wound into a much larger size, but the Noble Phantasm fizzled out before it could do more damage.

 _“Futile,”_ Halphas coldly declared.

“No,” Connla retorted. Then, to Rama and Nightingale’s shock, she ran toward the bleeding gash while screaming, _“It’s perfect!”_

_“Mmm!?”_

The young Lancer jumped inside the massive tear and dug her way _inside_ Halphas!

 ** _“You idiot!”_** Rama shrieked. **_“What do you think you’re doing!?”_**

Nightingale cried out, “It’s too late! We can’t get her out of there now!”

 _“Foolish child!”_ Halphas snarled, but was unable to force Connla out once she burrowed in deep enough.

* * *

The world inside the Demon Pillar felt more like an alternate dimension rather than diving into some creature’s innards. Sure, there were plenty of taut fibers and mysterious organs that pulsed with life, but gravity didn’t seem to mean anything in this unusual space. Connla swam through the air, looking to see if she could find Halphas’ core. The sinewy threads beckoned her to follow a particular path until she found them all converging upon a single point.

There, encased in dozens of pumping white tentacles, was Cuchulainn Alter. He had his eyes closed, appearing to be asleep. He functioned as the anchor point for Halphas to manifest in this world, and he had given up on his conquest while waiting for death to take him away. He just wanted to fade away and disappear, no longer feeling pain or sorrow tearing him apart.

“Father!” Connla exclaimed and floated in front of him, resting her palms upon his cheeks.

He wearily opened his eyes, then became utterly horrified as he shouted, “Connla!? What are you doing here!?”

“To save you, of course!”

“You fool! There is nothing you can accomplish by saving me!”

“You’re wrong!” she cried. “Teacher and Sir Diarmuid told me that this is my duty! This is the very reason why I was summoned – to save your soul from the darkness that Queen Medb and Halphas plunged you into! Everyone may have forgotten who the true Cuchulainn is, but I still remember! I want you to return to being the Ulster hero you once were!”

“Forget about me! If you go back now, you still have a chance to survive!”

“No… There’s no way for us three to defeat the Demon Pillar on our own. That’s why I’ll do _this!_ ”

Connla wildly cut through the threads with her spear to free Cuchulainn, then pulled him away as the fibers converged and threatened to ensnare him again. However, she switched places with him and allowed herself to be tangled within the grotesque sinew.

 _“NO! GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF HER!”_ Cuchulainn raged and tried to free her himself. However, Connla used her Runes to surround him in a wind vacuum that slowly blew him away from her. He cried out, _“You can’t do this! You absolutely CANNOT do this!”_

“It can’t be helped. Everyone is exhausted. That’s why I’ll extinguish the last vestiges of evil in this land with my life,” she moaned as her arms and legs were engulfed in demonic flesh. “It’s the least I can do to apologize for being the source of everyone’s suffering, including yours.”

_“CONNLA!”_

He tried to reach out to her, but his fervently grasping hand only caught air.

“You told me before,” she murmured, taking one last good look at Cuchulainn with a hollow smile. “No matter what bizarre shape or form you appear as in any world or dimension, you’re still my father at heart. Well, it is also true for me, as your daughter. Even if your sins are heavy in this timeline, I want you to live so you may atone for your crimes. That’s my wish for you in this world. I’m sure any other version of me in any other world would want the same thing for you. It is the reason I’m sending you away from here. I don’t mind if you wind up being angry with me for the rest of your life – I probably deserve it.”

Eventually, the tendrils completely obscured her face from his view.

“Farewell, Father. May we meet again in more favorable circumstances.”

**_“STOP III~IIIT!”_ **

He tried to plead with her, but his throat tightened in absolute despair. The shining gust of wind carried him out of the Demon Pillar’s dark core and disgorged him out of the demonic white flesh in a burst of black blood. He tumbled across the ground viciously until he came to a stop face-down, his soaked body dripping with some vile otherworldly substance.

“Cuchulainn!?” Rama shouted. “What’s going on!? Where’s Connla!?”

“She’s… she’s-!” the Mad King coughed and glared the most hideous glare in the universe at Halphas.

To their astonishment, the Demon Pillar remained sill. The nightmarish creature that had been tossing the Heroic Spirits about like rag dolls was doing nothing, and it got them anxious. After a moment of strained silence, that was when the first signs began to show themselves.

Nightingale blinked and asked, “What was that?”

She noticed small streaks of light shining around the monster. They weren’t large at first, but soon grew in size and intensity as the seconds passed. Halphas started to moan in torment, like how one would groan while suffering from some inexplicable pain in their upper torso. The winds also picked up once again, rotating around the demon in a stationary cyclone.

 ** _“SHIT!”_** Cuchulainn punched the ground. _“That idiot! She’s using her Noble Phantasm to destroy Halphas from the inside!”_

“That’s insane!” the nurse objected. “She’s not strong enough to kill it on her own! All she will accomplish is just slowing it down at the cost of her life! She’s committing suicide for no reason at all!”

“You’re right… except that she doesn’t just use her own power.”

“What do you mean?”

“Connla’s Noble Phantasm, Laoch Gan Finsceal†, summons the spirits of common heroes who have been forgotten by time. She acts as the medium that allows them to unleash their vengeance as a deadly wind upon the ones who ruined them. In this world, there must be thousands that me and my forces destroyed, and now she is beckoning them to release their anger against the evil that twisted this world. If she was older, she would be able to withstand their full fury, but as she is right now…”

Rama’s eyes widened in horror. “She doesn’t stand a chance?”

“Yeah,” Cuchulainn muttered grimly. “Perhaps this is the victims’ way of getting back at me. Since Connla’s my daughter, those vengeful spirits will be more than happy to make me endure the pain they felt by taking her away from me…”

Nightingale immediately got to her feet and shouted, “I won’t allow it! There is no human being in this world who deserves to die! If thousands of angry spirits want to kill an innocent person, then I’ll banish each and every one of them with my bare hands if I have to!”

“No. There’s nothing you can do.”

“I won’t give up! There must be-!”

“Will you shut up already? I never said that _I_ was going to give up on Connla. Quit your screaming and let me take care of this.”

“What are you going to do?”

“What else?”

Cuchulainn stood back up in a huddled pose, then declared, “Dive into Hell and drag her back out.”

He closed his eyes and focused on summoning an eerie darkness around him. He was channeling into his despair and rage, transforming his dark emotions into unholy scales that would encase him in the armor and claws of the ancient sea monster Curruid. During the process, all he could think about was Connla’s sad smile, making him believe she had given up on living in this world. Her final words tore him apart at his deepest core:

_“Farewell.”_

He refused to allow her to die alone. He almost lost her once, and wasn’t by her side when she ‘perished’ the first time. He wouldn’t let it happen again. If she was going to die for real, he would accompany her in death so she wasn’t lonely. If he could save her though, he would do everything in his power to make his wish for her come true.

_No. This is not good-bye. Not yet!_

The horned helmet covered his head like a carapace and shielded his angry expression from the world. His form vanished within the sickening dark aura, and he could feel the layers of black armor surrounding the rest of his body.

_Just a little longer… Even if it’s just a little longer, I want to be with you in this world! I promise I won’t screw up anymore! I’ll make sure you have the future you deserve!_

The dark cloud engulfing him dissipated, revealing him in his Noble Phantasm – the same one he used to nearly destroy Scathach. His howl was not of this world, sounding more like a Phantasmal’s war cry than a human’s screaming.

_Hang in there! Don’t you die on me just yet!_

The monstrous man hunched forward like a beast, then called out his Noble Phantasm’s name:

**_“CURRUID COINCHENN!”_ **

Cuchulainn dashed like a madman towards the Demon Pillar, then made a mighty leap onto its side and burrowed his massive claws inside the tough white flesh. He ignored the violent winds, random slashes of light, and the demon’s own attacks to try and shake him off. He concentrated on nothing but ripping apart this monster and diving inside to get Connla back. With a shout that would shatter the heavens, he finally tore open Halphas’ exterior with a fantastic spurt of black blood, and then crawled inside the gigantic creature like a parasite. The demon squealed in immeasurable pain from the dual Noble Phantasms shearing it into shreds from the inside.

The others could do nothing except watch the gory spectacle while making sure they didn’t get viciously blown away. The tornado only got stronger with each passing second, so they had to hold on to whatever they could for dear life. The shining flashes of light continued tearing through Halphas without remorse, cracking and snapping like rapid gunfire as bits and pieces of the Demon God disintegrated. Eventually, all of its diamond-like ruby eyes and the red crystals surrounding its base shattered into imperceptible fragments, leaving its pure white flesh exposed to the destructive elements. With its insides utterly destroyed, it didn’t take much for the assault to reach back outside and start tearing apart its thick hide and multiple eyes.

The hundreds of slashes cracking about randomly eventually converged into one point. After a powerful moment of silence… it happened.

**_FWOOOM!_ **

What followed was perhaps the mightiest explosion of wind ever seen in human history. Perhaps only the Galveston Hurricane of 1900 could be used as a comparison to the forces this cyclone generated. Rama and Nightingale finally lost their footing and went flying into the distance.

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

† - “Hero Without Legend”


	19. Death For Tomorrow

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 19: Death For Tomorrow**

The clear night sky blanketed the country with its soothing scenery of twinkling stars and thin clouds. Not long before this, the area had been covered with numerous Demon Pillars writhing about trying to kill the few Servants who resisted them. Now, those creatures were completely wiped out. No signs of the North Army’s terrifying battle remained.

“Unbelievable… He actually did it!” Helena exclaimed.

She and all of her allies stared at Arjuna as he kneeled upon the ground, appearing horribly weakened and unable to sustain himself any further.

“Ungh… I hope… this is enough… to atone… for what I’ve done…” he gasped. “So this is… what it means… to be a Servant… who fights for the world. I understand how you felt now… Karna…”

The Indian hero’s form dissipated in a gust of golden dust that faded to nothing. Edison and Tesla stood side-by-side, astonished that everything was quiet once again. Edison was afraid of jinxing this auspicious scene, but nevertheless murmured, “We won…”

“It would seem so,” Tesla agreed hesitantly.

Elizabeth suddenly hugged Robin and squealed delightedly, “We did it! We really, really did it!”

“Yeah,” he muttered in exhaustion. “Though I’ve got mixed feelings, being a fellow Archer and all that. Man, it’s a huge world out there…”

“Hm,” Li Shuwen grumbled. “Now that things have settled here, I must leave to attend to other matters. Godspeed to you all.”

Just as quickly as he said that, the Chinese fighter departed with a strong leap. Beowulf sat on a rock nearby, panting heavily from having expended so much energy just to survive against the Demon Pillars. Helena approached him and asked, “Do you understand why your side never had a chance? It’s because this is an era forged through intellect and pioneering spirit, not through violence and heroism.”

“Heh… You might say that… But there’s still a need for strength like mine… And the little princess is doing her best too,” he moaned.

“What do you mean?”

“Look…” he pointed to the distance. Everyone looked over to see what he meant, and the sight immediately horrified them. Although they were far away from Washington, they could see a familiar static hurricane rip through the skies and tear everything apart in its wake.

“No!” Helena choked up. “It can’t be! That tornado is the same one she caused in Ohio!”

“Hey, don’t tell me she’s using her full Noble Phantasm again! She’ll kill herself like that!” Edison shouted.

“That’s just the type of warrior she is,” Beowulf muttered. “She’s a real trooper, that one. If it means destroying an enemy, she’ll gladly die a thousand times without complaint. Geez… That kind of heavy responsibility shouldn’t be left to a little kid like her.”

“Hey, is the puppy in danger!? Then why are we just standing around here!? We have to go help her!” Elizabeth shouted and started running toward the capital.

“It might be too late, but I guess we should do what we can,” Robin grumbled and followed her.

Edison and Tesla pursued them, while Helena took one last look at Beowulf and said, “Farewell. I hope you’re summoned to a world where your heroism is needed.”

“Yeah,” the scarred warrior said and gradually faded away like Arjuna did. “If the kid somehow survives this, take care of her.”

“We will.”

* * *

After several hours of lying in the dirt unconscious, Rama eventually stirred awake and groaned. The horrible migraine he endured felt like his brain had been turned into paste, and that if he moved around too much, it would slosh about like sludge inside his cranium. He spent some time lying on his side before getting to his knees and looking around wearily. He found Nightingale slumped nearby, and he shook her shoulder while uttering, “Hey, wake up! Are you okay!?”

A moment later, the nurse woke up and turned onto her back, staring up at him while murmuring, “Everything feels intact. That must mean I’m alive.”

“What happened? Why are we way out here?”

“Hmm… We were fighting that Demon Pillar. Then Connla went inside to use her Noble Phantasm… and Cuchulainn followed to rescue her…”

“That’s right! Where’s Connla!?”

They looked around for their young comrade, but she was nowhere to be found.

“No…” Rama wanted to tear up. “She couldn’t have survived that…”

“That damn fool. Just after I discharged her too,” Nightingale closed her eyes. “But that is how it is. Once a patient leaves my care, they are free to live and die as they please.”

While they were lost in pity and self-loathing, that was when they noticed something unusual in the distance. Through the dust of the dying windstorm, the duo could see a large figure sauntering toward them with a distinct limp in his gait. His large spiked tail was all but gone, and most of his armor and clothing had disappeared. Copious amounts of blood pooled out of countless scars and gashes across his skin. He breathed hard, but pressed onward toward the surprised Servants.

 _“Cuchulainn!”_ Rama seethed, both in anger and genuine surprise.

He wanted to reach for his sword and use the last of his strength to kill his enemy. However, Nightingale raised her arm up and objected, “Wait!”

“Why!? Now is the perfect time!”

“Look… in his arms…”

Once she brought his attention to it, he finally noticed what she was so focused on. Cuchulainn was carrying something wrapped inside his torn black mantle. Upon closer inspection, they could see that the small figure cocooned in the cloth was a comatose Connla. Once he saw the nurse and the warrior, he finally exhaled a sigh of relief and slumped to his knees, while still looking at his child with complete sorrow in his battered eyes. Nightingale immediately ran to them to see what was wrong.

“What happened back there? Is she still alive?” she demanded.

“Just barely…” Cuchulainn grumbled. “Please… help her…”

They laid Connla on the ground and unwrapped the mantle so Nightingale could get a better look at the girl’s injuries. The nurse, who was accustomed to seeing grievous wounds, retched in horror and shouted, _“What is this!?_ ”

She had every right to be appalled. Not only was Connla covered in perhaps hundreds of tiny lacerations, she had completely lost her left arm and both legs, leaving her a triple amputee with only her barely functioning right arm. Her left eye was also gone, not to mention that part of her face looked like it had been scooped out with a gigantic spoon. The child had lost so much blood that her skin was as pale as death itself.

Rama was equally as shocked as Nightingale and yelped, “How the hell is she still alive!?”

“Gah…” Cuchulainn collapsed into a sitting position in sheer exhaustion. “She definitely died… but only moments… after I transferred… my Battle Continuation… to her…”

“How did you do that?”

“With my Runes… of course.”

“There’s no time for gawking!” Nightingale shouted at the two men. “This is as terrible an emergency as it gets! Although the conditions are not ideal for surgery, I have no choice but to press forth like this! We must stop the bleeding immediately and cauterize all blood flow to unnecessary parts of her body! One of you two need to focus on keeping her breathing stable, while the other follows my instructions on where to cauterize! I will dedicate myself to using my healing techniques to repair the most critical injuries! I must focus on her lungs first, as they appear to have collapsed from puncture wounds!”

“Tch… Then I’ll do the cauterizing. Boy, you take care of the breathing,” Cuchulainn said to Rama.

“Yeah,” the warrior nodded, beginning to perform mouth-to-mouth with Connla. It felt strange to him that in one moment he was fighting against the Celtic hero as his mortal enemy, only to have to cooperate with him to save someone else. As he looked at Connla’s terrible injuries though, he remembered his own near-death struggle and how she, while as Ituha, accompanied him all along the way to his full recovery. He also couldn’t forget how she braved death to use her full Noble Phantasm against Halphas to save everyone. It didn’t matter that she was the child of the man who almost killed him; he was going to repay her kindness in full during her darkest hours.

Connla groaned in her sleep as she reacted to the painful medical procedures. She gasped hard as consciousness returned to her and she tried to open her eyes. However, while she could barely see the sky with her right vision, her left was completely black.

“Father… Where are you…?” Her moaning sounded incoherent through the gurgling of blood. “It’s… so dark…”

“I’m right here,” Cuchulainn whispered while burning the wounds on her missing arm shut with a small Ansuz rune.

“Is the Demon Pillar… gone…?”

Rama assured her, “You and your father destroyed it with your Noble Phantasms.”

“And… the northern front…?”

Cuchulainn pressed his fingers against her lips to silence her and ordered, “Stop talking. You’re wasting your energy.”

“Mm…”

About half an hour later, the group heard footsteps running toward them. Elizabeth shouted, “HEE~EEY! Are you guys okay!? Is the puppy all right!?”

“Be quiet!” Nightingale snapped. “We’re in the middle of emergency treatment!”

“Geez, what’s your-? AH!?”

Both Elizabeth and Helena let out horrified yelps of shock as they witnessed the child Lancer’s horrific injuries and the others’ frantic efforts to save her. Edison, Tesla and Robin also saw them and shuddered simultaneously.

“This is horrible,” Robin mumbled, resisting the urge to look away in revulsion.

Edison attempted to keep calm and asked, “What happened here?”

Nightingale replied, “There’s no time to explain. Since you use electricity, I need your help in keeping the patient’s heartbeat stable with defibrillation.”

The lion-man trembled anxiously. “Are you serious!? I’ve never done anything so precise and delicate in my life!”

“Hah hah hah hah hah!” Tesla laughed. “How pathetic! Such a monumental task is unfitting of an ordinary man, as you so confess! Fear not! I, Nikola Tesla, shall step up to the task and-!”

 ** _“HURRY IT UP ALREADY!”_** the irate nurse shouted. “She won’t last five minutes like this!”

“Gah… Right, right. Here we go.”

Tesla gently pressed his hands against Connla’s chest and focused on transferring a tiny bit of electricity through her nerves. He shut out all outside interferences and concentrated on giving her just the right amount to keep her alive without electrocuting her to death. Helena joined Nightingale in the healing efforts. All Robin, Elizabeth and Edison could do was watch and pray silently. Edison was especially surprised to see Cuchulainn helping them out, but he understood his position and opted to save his harsh words for later.

Treatment continued for another apprehensive hour until Nightingale announced that they had done everything they could for Connla at this point. She was still in critical condition, but they managed to stop the bleeding and repair her wounds enough. She would need further surgery for sure, but operating too much on such a small child would cause great strain to her already battered body.

Nightingale looked at everyone and asked, “Is there a bed we can use for the patient to rest?”

“I wish we could take her back to the White House,” Edison muttered, gazing into the distance forlornly, “but it’s been nearly demolished. We will need to set up a temporary base until we can get it repaired.”

“There’s a small settlement I saw nearby as we were coming here,” Helena said. “It didn’t look too wrecked, so I’m sure we can stay there a while.”

“Good enough,” Nightingale said.

Cuchulainn wordlessly wrapped Connla back in his mantle and carried her. He didn’t want to say anything to the heroes who thwarted his efforts to destroy America. He was sure that no one was interested in talking to him right now either. Connla was the only reason he was there anyway – once everyone was certain she would be okay, they would then focus their attention on what to do with him. That was why he kept to the very rear of the group while staring only at the girl’s exhausted face.

_You idiot… You should have cooperated with Rama and Nightingale to fight me and Halphas from the outside. You didn’t have to pull me out of there and destroy the Demon Pillar by yourself. I was more than ready to die back there, so what was the point of saving me too?_

He kept cursing himself for his stupidity all the way to the tiny hamlet.

* * *

Over the next two days, Cuchulainn confined himself to a small house, refusing to leave or talk to anyone besides Nightingale. He had Connla tucked in the only available bed, and not once did he leave her side. It wasn’t like he could anyway; Edison and Tesla had constructed a large cage of raw electricity to confine him so he couldn’t run off and cause any more trouble. Everyone else could pass through so long as either of the two men allowed it, but Cuchulainn was never going to escape unless he didn’t mind being electrocuted to death.

Truth be told, Cuchulainn didn’t care about anything or anyone else anymore. He wanted to be by his daughter’s side for once, when he had neglected to do so before. He didn’t want her to die, but if she was going to succumb to her injuries, he was going to hold her hand and give her much-needed comfort in her last moments. That being said, he refused to let things get that bad for her.

After getting Connla settled in bed, Cuchulainn used his Runes to connect his life essence to hers so he could transfer his stamina. She didn’t have any strength left to fight the agony plaguing her, so he lent his strength for her to survive with. Not only that, he did everything else for her; feeding, bathing, dressing her wounds, giving her medication, and keeping her calm. All this time, she actually didn’t understand how awful her physical condition was.

The first day was difficult for Connla, although she still had most of her mental faculties intact. One time, she told him, “I had a weird dream.”

“What was it about?” he asked.

“I was in another version of myself… You and I were working for the same Master, at some place called Chaldea…”

“Is that so?”

“We were fighting the same enemies… Side by side… As allies…”

“Heh. That would be nice. I bet anyone who opposes our Master would be quivering once they faced the two of us in battle.”

Soon enough, her unusual ramblings turned incoherent as she started to have a delirious fever. Nightingale had to make plenty of visits on the second day to help her fight the infections with her healing skills. Connla looked like a zombie on the second night, her remaining eye completely devoid of life, as she had been pumped full of enough medications to last a lifetime. She was unable to speak any longer, and her skin turned a clammy grey hue.

Cuchulainn wiped her sweating forehead with a damp cloth, waiting for the sedatives to kick in and knock her back into a coma. Once Connla was fast asleep, he held her freezing cold hand and stared at the gold-and-red ring on her thumb. It was the same one he gave to her during her birthday celebration – the only real present she had ever received in her lifetime. It was the conduit he used to connect his life essence to hers, and the etched red marks shone to symbolize this.

After a moment of hesitant silence, he looked up at Nightingale and said, “Give it to me straight. How much longer does she have?”

The nurse closed her eyes and sighed, steeling herself to deliver the unfortunate news:

“Two… Maybe three days if she holds out long enough.”

“So it’s that bad.”

“Yes. She has so many infections that she is succumbing to severe sepsis, and she doesn’t have the same endurance levels that Rama did when he was fighting that curse. In fact, Connla should already be dead. Only my healing and you transferring your stamina to her have acted as her life supports. I think it’s best to put her to sleep for good, but I’m sure you’d be against that.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. If she possesses the will to live, then it’s your prerogative to work toward sustaining her.”

“Right you are. However, reality is a bitter pill that I must also swallow. I don’t know what your intentions are, but know this – she is in excruciating pain, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it on her own anymore.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Cuchulainn said, holding Connla’s hand tighter. “That amount of time is just what I need anyway. Do me a favor; tell the others not to bother me for the next 24 hours.”

“What are you going to do?” the nurse wondered.

“You’ll see.”

She wasn’t sure what he had in mind, but the confident tone in his voice was enough to assuage her concerns. She left him be for the night, and he kneeled over Connla while using his index finger to begin tracing some magic symbols under her right eye that resembled the marks on his face.

“Just put up with this a little longer. Don’t worry, you’re gonna be fine. I’ll make sure you get better,” he whispered to her.

* * *

Just as promised, Nightingale told the other Servants not to bother Cuchulainn for the entire day. They weren’t sure what he was planning and grew more and more nervous with each passing hour. They started to think that Cuchulainn was doing something horrible to Connla, like a murder-suicide that he didn’t want any of them to stop. Nightingale had faith in him however, and constantly told the others not to rush to such conclusions.

The full 24 hours finally passed, so Edison and Rama agreed to go check up on Connla together. Once they were inside the hut, they saw Cuchulainn kneeling next to Connla’s bed fast asleep while the little girl remained unconscious, appearing much worse than when they last saw her. Both men were relieved to see that Cuchulainn hadn’t done anything drastic, but were equally afraid of Connla’s deteriorating condition.

“Hey,” Rama said to the former king. “Are you awake?”

Cuchulainn soon stirred awake and groaned. He took a moment to get his bearings, then looked back at the pair and grumbled, “You two, huh? What do you want?”

“We were worried for the young lady, so we came to check up on her,” Edison said.

“Oh, right. It’s been a whole day, hasn’t it?”

“What was so important that you didn’t want us to disturb you for the last 24 hours?”

Cuchulainn didn’t respond right away. His expression was blank and disinterested as he sauntered back to his feet, looking down upon his comatose daughter for a long minute. Rama and Edison believed it would have been rude to bother him while he was observing his child, so they kept quiet and waited for him to say something.

Finally, he smirked and said, “This is my last-ditch effort to save her.”

Suddenly, Cuchulainn raised his arm and summoned Gae Bolg in his hand, then lifted it above his head so that it was pointing downward!

 _“What are you doing!?”_ Rama screamed, grabbing the hilt of his sword.

 _“Don’t be reckless!”_ Edison added. Both men panicked at the sight of their former enemy seemingly ready to strike Connla down.

 ** _“STAY AWAY!”_** Cuchulainn roared.

Before the others could react in time, they heard the distinct sound of metal crunching through flesh and viscera, followed by the copious pooling of blood on the floor. It all happened so fast that neither Servant understood what just occurred. It took them a moment to process the scene before them.

“Gah… Augh-!”

Cuchulainn reeled back, then slumped to his knees and coughed up blood. He had not stabbed Connla, but rather _himself_ in the chest. He extracted Gae Bolg out of his torso and chucked it aside without a care, leaving it to disintegrate into nothing. His heart was pierced clean through, and the legendary spear’s curse coursed all over his flesh and organs. He slumped forward on all fours in agony, but he breathed hard for a moment to regain his strength. His deep panting made him sound like a wounded beast that was struggling to hold on to its mortal coil.

Rama released his grip on his weapon and uttered, “W-What did you just do?”

“Isn’t it… obvious…?” Cuchulainn coughed. “I’m… finishing things…”

Edison closed his eyes and shook his head. “You fool. That young lady sacrificed so much to rescue you from Halphas. Do you no longer have a soul? Do you not care about what she did for you? Are you happy with spitting on her efforts like this?”

“No… that’s not it. That’s not… why I’m… doing this… Unngh!”

The fatally wounded Celtic hero crawled up to the bed, then slumped his upper body over the sleeping girl so he could look at her angelic face while dying.

“Listen to me…” he urged the two men. “I bound myself… to a geas… that would help… restore Connla… to full health…”

“You mean like some kind of resurrection spell?” Rama asked.

“Yeah. With this… she’ll get better… in no time. But in order… for it… to work… I have to… kill myself… and transfer… all of my essence… to her…”

“That’s insane! Do you have any idea how devastated she’ll be when she finds out!?”

“Heh…” Cuchulainn chuckled. “Are you saying… you prefer to execute me… and have her die… like _this_?”

“But… But even if we wanted you executed for your crimes, we could have waited until-“

“There’s no time...”

“No time?”

“Haven’t you noticed, idiot? With each passing day… her condition is… getting worse. None of Nightingale’s treatments… are going to work. I needed to… do something drastic… so I came up… with this. Feh… Aren’t you supposed to… be happy instead? You’ll finally be rid of… the monster that… terrorized this land. What more… could you ask for?”

“No…” Rama moaned. “Not like this…”

“Save it. I’ve made up my mind. Before I go, though… I have a request…”

Edison frowned, then firmed his expression as he said, “You want us to take care of the young lady for you? You didn’t even need to ask. All of us will make sure she lives a fulfilling life as one of this country’s Servants, and is celebrated as a national hero.”

Cuchulainn sighed in relief. “Thanks…”

He stroked Connla’s head and whispered in her ear, even though she was in a deep coma and could not hear him.

“Sorry about this… but I’ve got to go now. Don’t be sad though. I’ll be much closer to you… than you think. I’m giving everything I have… so you can be the normal girl… you always wanted to be. You be good… and listen to what everyone… tells you to do… okay?”

His body could no longer resist Gae Bolg’s curse as it encroached upon his face and extremities with vicious prejudice. He gave up resisting and closed his eyes, allowing his form to disintegrate from the feet upward. As his arms and head vanished, he murmured his final words to Connla.

“… I love you.”

Finally, he was gone. The Mad King that spread chaos and destruction across America, eventually tamed by his own loving daughter, had vanished like a bad dream. Edison and Rama were left standing there as witnesses to the man’s death. They approached the bed and examined the girl’s extensive injuries.

“Edison, get the others right away,” Rama said.

“Got it,” the lion-man replied and hurried to inform everyone else. Rama remained by Connla’s side holding her hand. He was so worked up from witnessing Cuchulainn’s suicide that he had to take many deep breaths to calm down. Soon, Edison returned with Nightingale and Helena in tow so they could get a look at Connla.

“What happened here?” Nightingale asked.

“I’m not sure,” Edison grumbled hurriedly, “but Cuchulainn killed himself just now!”

“He committed suicide!? What for!?”

“I’m not sure. He said something about some ‘gus’ that he was using on her.”

“You mean a geas,” Helena corrected him. “My god, what was he thinking? What kind of vow did he bind himself to that required him ending his own life?”

“I really don’t know…”

“Hmm… Oh!? Hey, look!” the occultist exclaimed, directing their attention to Connla.

Everyone else glanced over at the sleeping child, and they suddenly shared in her astonishment. A series of marks nearly identical to Cuchulainn Alter’s tattoos appeared on the sleeping girl’s face and body as glowing red glyphs. They could sense an extraordinary amount of external mana flowing into her scars and missing limbs. Slowly but surely, her left arm and both legs formed into existence thanks to the glittering energy. The marks shone until the healing process was done, then disappeared so she could return to normal. Connla didn’t look to be in pain anymore as she slept, and the color to her skin appeared much healthier than before. It was as if nothing ever happened to her.

“What in the world was that?” Nightingale wondered as she hurriedly examined her patient’s new limbs. “They’re warm… There’s definitely blood coursing through them. It’s as if she had a successful transplant.”

“Those were Runes,” Helena said, holding Connla’s wrist to analyze the spell. “We can’t see those marks on her right now, but they’re still there providing her with mana.”

“You mean they’re invisible?”

“Yes. I’d need to study this further, but this is definitely Cuchulainn’s geas. He must have needed time to construct these complex Runes required for it to work.”

“So that’s why he didn’t want anyone to bother him.”

While Helena was examining the spell, Connla began to stir awake. After a long moment, her tired eyes finally opened. Her normally soft brown eyes had now changed to a bright ruby red color. She looked around at everyone blankly, then put her regenerated left hand on her head to help cope with a dizzying headache that struck her.

“Uuunh…”

“Connla,” Nightingale said, resting her hand on the girl’s forehead to feel her temperature. “How are you doing? Does anything hurt?”

“My head… feels heavy…”

“Take it easy. How about your arms and legs? Do you feel any pain?”

“… No, not really. They’re kind of tingly though…”

“Can you move them much?”

“A little bit,” the girl moaned and shuffled her legs beneath the blankets. She looked down at the sheets and noticed the large bloodstains. “Ah…? W-Where did this blood come from?”

Rama frowned hesitantly. “It’s Cuchulainn’s.”

“Father’s!? Unnngh!”

“You need to relax,” Nightingale ordered the worried girl.

“Where is he? I know I rescued him from that Demon Pillar. Why did he bleed so much on my bed?”

Edison grumbled pensively, then explained everything that happened, from how she destroyed Halphas, to Cuchulainn rescuing her from certain death, to him tending for her for the last three days, ending with how he killed himself to transfer his life essence to her.

Nightingale wasn’t too impressed as she scowled, “That’s where this blood came from!? That’s no good! I must change these sheets and blankets immediately!”

As the nurse departed hurriedly, Connla sighed forlornly, “I see. He did that for me…”

“I’m sorry,” Rama murmured. “I wish I was able to stop him.”

The girl became quiet for a long while. She had every right to be sad, yet the tears weren’t coming. She felt strangely comfortable as she said, “It’s okay. For some reason, I feel like he’s a lot closer to me than I realize. I don’t really understand why, but it’s like he’s standing next to me all the time.”

“Right,” the swordsman nodded, gazing into her red eyes. After how Sita gave up her body for him, he could strongly relate to Connla’s woes. “He’ll always watch over you. There’s nothing to be sad about now.”

“But… I just wanted him to live… to atone for his mistakes…”

“He’s very much alive, honey,” Helena said, rubbing her head. “He just shed his body and placed his spirit inside you. He considers saving your life as his atonement – he’ll continue living through you instead. I’m sure that some day, you’ll find happiness knowing that you were loved so much.”

“You think so?”

“Of course. You just need some time. Don’t feel guilty anymore, okay? He wouldn’t be happy if he saw you anguishing over his death.”

“Mm…” Connla nodded, feeling utterly exhausted.

Edison said, “You should rest. Once you have fully recovered, we will have a lot of work ahead of us. Normally we would have returned to the Throne by now, but this nation still needs us to help repair the damage. It is very weak and fragile, and needs loving care to regain its strength if it is to restore the Human Order Foundation on its own.”

The child nodded, then closed her eyes. Nightingale returned to change the blankets, and the other three left to allow Connla to get some much-needed sleep.


	20. Detailed For the Record

**FATE/NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM**

**“New Order of the Ages”**

**Chapter 20: Detailed For the Record**

“It’s quite remarkable, really.”

Li Shuwen said those words while standing in the middle of a forest. He was by himself, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was alone. He knew someone was listening as he spoke.

“To be able to survive with 90% of your organs destroyed… It seems like you have truly transcended death itself.”

After he made that compliment, the purple-haired Witch of Dun Scaith appeared before him. Scathach still looked terrible, but after she escaped into the Land of Shadows, she spent the entire time healing herself while observing the entire battle. Although she wasn’t present for the final battles, she knew everything that had transpired up until now.

“Heh,” she chuckled. “Didn’t you know? I cannot be killed by normal means. Only the crimson thorn, thrust by a pupil who can inherit my legacy, is able to claim my life. But here and now is not the time for me to perish. Therefore, I had to use all of the skills I acquired over my long life to survive.”

“If Cuchulainn was not worthy of that task, couldn’t you have left it to your final pupil?”

“No. I refuse to allow Connla to shoulder such a heavy burden. Her role was to snap that fool out of his delusions by seeking love and peace for both him and the world. Besides, she’s not physically capable of wielding Gae Bolg’s true powers without self-destructing. She already proved that in a completely different Singularity.”

“I see. So then, you remained long enough to fulfill your end of the deal,” Li reminded her.

“I know. Remiss as I am to say this though, I’m afraid I’m in no condition to engage in a drawn-out duel with you. This world is slowly correcting itself as well. I think we only have time for a single round.”

“That’s fine. After my fight with Beowulf and the Demon Pillars, I only have enough for a single strike myself.”

“How fitting for the man purported to defeat his enemies with just one blow – the warrior called ‘No Second Strike’.”

“Well then…”

“Let’s have…”

 _“An honest match!”_ both of them shouted at each other, then rushed at each other while pouring all of their strength into this once-in-a-lifetime duel. Whatever the outcome was didn’t matter. The important thing was that two warriors, who lived and died by their weapons and amazing feats of battle, unable to meet each other in life due to living in completely different times, could use this one chance to test their honed skills. The match itself was satisfaction enough for them.

* * *

_March 4, 1797_

At the White House, a band of musicians played a patriotic song in celebration. The capital city’s grandest structure had long since been rebuilt after the final battle with Cuchulainn devastated the property. Now it was greater and bolder than ever, with the familiar white pillars flanking the entrance, the Star Spangled Banner with 15 stars and 15 stripes fluttering upon the roof, and the lush gardens blooming countless flowers everywhere. A small army of mechanized infantry patrolled the area, though they seemed to be more of a show of power than a necessary security detail.

Now it was 14 years after the Great Mythological North American War, or the Great Myth War for short, and it was the day that America’s second President John Adams would be sworn into office. Standing upon the podium were the incumbent president Thomas Edison (who took on the appearance and name ‘George Washington’ to shield his true identity), the future president Adams, and his choice for vice-present Thomas Jefferson. Lined up behind the politicians were the Servants who survived the Great Myth War and functioned as Edison’s officials during his tenure as President.

Helena, Rama, Nightingale, Elizabeth, Robin, Tesla, and Connla watched in silence as Adams made his inaugural speech to the public, declaring his intent to carry on the leadership that Edison demonstrated during the war that could have destroyed America at its very roots. With the signing of the papers, Edison and Adams shook hands – Edison no longer held the title of President, but he knew this was how it had to be. To preserve the US Constitution’s decree of two 4-year terms at maximum, he had to forego the notion of being a dictatorial ‘Presi-King’, or else he could set a bad example for future Presidents to come. Acting as ‘George Washington’ would also help preserve America’s historical foundations.

When the ceremony concluded, the officials went back inside the White House and headed to the banquet hall to enjoy a lavish meal. While the other Servants remained the same for the most part, Connla’s appearance and personality had changed the most dramatically. Now in her early 20s, her physical age finally matched her mental age, and she had quite the slender body to go with it as a bonus. She looked a lot happier than when she was younger, signified by her bright red eyes and soft smile. Whenever she graced the White House with her presence, she would garner quite a bit of attention from the gentlemen who wanted to be her suitors.

Today was no different, as Connla took her seat at the table. Several bouquets of flowers and small gifts were already packed around her plate. Elizabeth pouted and muttered to her friend, “Geez, aren’t you the popular one? What’s next, a shotgun wedding?”

“Don’t be silly,” Connla chuckled. “I’d never let it get that far. Speaking of which, isn’t that the title of your newest song?”

“You bet. It’s an anthem of unhinged love and romance. Want me to sing a few chords?”

“I think it’s best we wait until the meal is over. We wouldn’t want to interrupt Mr. Edison’s speeches.”

“What a bore. He’s just gonna go on and on about himself. I don’t know who’s worse in the ego department, him or Old Man Tesla.”

“I’m sure you could bring some fierce competition with your… impressive amount of confidence.”

“Are you implying something?”

“He he. Maybe I am.”

They enjoyed a succulent state dinner, followed by dessert and tea afterward. After the banquet was over, the Servants retreated to the Oval Office for one last meeting before they relinquished their roles to the next generation of leaders.

“Time sure flies by,” Helena said. “I’m happy, but at the same time, a little sad that we have to leave.”

“This day was inevitable, Madame Blavatsky,” Tesla told her. “It took a long time, but the Human Order Foundation has been fully corrected now. We must return to the Throne and heed the summons of another world in peril.”

Elizabeth frowned, “What a shame. I finally got the basics for Broadway and Hollywood to flourish, yet I have to leave before seeing what will become of them.”

“You were running around like a headless dragon for a while, weren’t you?” Robin asked.

“Of course I was! Not only did I have to fulfill my own dream, I also felt obligated to make Nero’s wish come true! I’m not like you, sitting around and boozing while in female company!”

“Hey, give me a break. I think I earned it after participating in that crazy war.”

Nightingale said, “There are still plenty of illnesses requiring treatment, along with many people who are injured from overexerting themselves. Pioneering sounds wonderful on paper, but it is a grueling task if one is not keen to care for their bodies first.”

“Even so, you passed along plenty of techniques for everyone to use,” Rama told her. “I’m sure everyone will be fine without your guidance.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Well then,” Edison declared to everyone, “it’s time to go. I don’t know if we shall see each other again, but there is no need to feel sorrow. We got to know each other and forge some lasting memories that shall never fade. Whether they may be good memories or not is up for debate.”

He glanced over at Tesla, and the two inventors immediately averted their gazes from each other. Eventually, the eight Servants’ bodies started to glow gold simultaneously, and they disappeared one by one while saying their good-byes to each other. Soon, Connla was the last Heroic Spirit remaining, and she gazed upon the ring that Cuchulainn left for her so many years ago.

_Father… I know you’ve been watching over me this entire time, so I want to say this. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I was able to live through my teenaged years happily, and I made many friends along the way. It’s unfortunate that I have to leave my acquaintances from this era behind, but I know it’s for the best. Let’s go back to the Throne and wait for our next summons. I hope we get to fight as allies for a change – I would love to be by your side as an ally, rather than fighting you as an opponent._

Connla closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber. Her Spirit Origin disappeared without a trace.

* * *

In a strange universe where magical fish swam about in invisible water, Cuchulainn Alter stood there and closed his eyes. There had been a projection shining in front of him, which displayed the world through Connla’s eyes as she grew up and assisted the other Servants in restoring that era’s foundation. The ‘screen’ flickered off as she disappeared however. Since he was still connected to her, it meant that he would soon vanish as well.

However, he looked back at someone who was standing behind him. The petite figure was completely invisible save for a warped outline, but he knew exactly where his mysterious visitor was. They had been standing beside him all this time while he showed them the entire story as a long-running ‘movie’ of sorts.

“Well, that’s the end of that,” Cuchulainn murmured. “I don’t expect you to remember every last detail, but I think you get the gist of it.”

“…”

“It’s a good thing I caught you before you were lost in this sea that connects parallel dimensions together. If I didn’t, your soul would have been transported to a completely different world, and you probably would have never returned home.”

The unknown person nodded as a gesture of silent appreciation. It was true – the _Novus Ordo Seclorum_ Cuchulainn had been sent here so he could watch over his daughter’s growth, but found this stranger floating around in a daze and rescued them. They never said a word to him, but by only touching their hand, he already had a full understanding of who they were. That was why he felt compelled to show them everything that happened in his world.

“Do you know why I showed this memory to you?” he asked. “It’s because I want you to pass along a message from me to that idiot who is also me.”

“…?”

“Tell him to stop being a complete asshole. If he wants to be by your side as a Servant, then he needs to stop being so goddamn ignorant and just be there with you. You don’t need any more than that, right?”

“…”

“Anything I do to make you happy just winds up backfiring badly, doesn’t it? Whether it’s this Singularity, the Nevada incident, or some other crisis that neither of us know about, I keep screwing up and making you suffer even more. So tell him to do nothing other than fight alongside you against a common enemy. I’m sure he’ll understand. After all, we Cuchulainn Alters share the same philosophy; death to the enemy, defense to the ally. So long as you remain as that one’s ally, there’s nothing he can do to botch things up in your world. Hell, even if you weren’t his kid, betrayal is not in his book. So long as he doesn’t do anything stupid, you’ll be fine with him.”

“…”

“Got that? Okay, then. You look like you’re ready to leave, so I’m gonna cut the connection between us. Make sure you tell that idiot everything I just said. Oh, yeah…”

The man kneeled before the invisible figure.

“It’d help if you stopped being so freakin’ hard on yourself. The more you try to do everything on your own, the more it makes that idiot worry about you. You don’t need to act like a one-kid army against a cold, unfeeling world anymore. Even though you’re a Servant, it’s fine for you to behave like a normal girl now. He’d actually be happy to see that.”

“…”

“Fine. I said everything I wanted to. You go back to your world and take care of your problems-”

He grinned widely as he finally severed the connection between himself and the foreign visitor.

“Lancer Connla, Servant of Fujimaru Ritsuka of Chaldea.”

* * *

A pair of large brown eyes shot open from a deep sleep.

Connla found herself lying in her bed, staring up at the blank white ceiling. She was back in her room in Chaldea. She inspected her hands, turning them back and forth to make sure she still had control of them. Her head felt very fuzzy, and it took her a short while to regain her bearings.

 _Oh, wow,_ she thought as she rested her head between her knees to soften the piercing headache. _How long was I asleep for?_

She looked at the calendar, discovering marks made over a two-week period. Someone had been coming in and checking on her daily, noted by the short messages scribbled in each square. She didn’t know whose handwriting it was, other than it wasn’t hers.

_I was out for two weeks? Why…?_

She thought back to what happened when she was last conscious, then remembered her fight with Berserker Lancelot in the alternate pre-Camelot era. Her mind wandered everywhere as she thought about that battle, her encounter with Aife, and the entire alternate universe she had witnessed through another Connla’s eyes. Everything had been happening so fast that she barely had the time to process it. She covered her face with her hand and quietly cried for a few minutes. She wasn’t sure why she was upset, but she couldn’t fight back the tears anymore.

Once she got the worst of it out, Connla eventually got out of bed and struggled to walk. She was still exhausted despite sleeping for 14 whole days, but she wanted to at least wash her face. Her legs slowly lumbered forward and carried her through the automatic door. Her gaze was fixed on her feet and her deep breathing, so she didn’t notice the person who was right in front of her.

“You’re finally up.”

Connla turned her head up sharply to discover Chaldea’s Cuchulainn Alter sitting on the windowsill directly outside her room. He faced the view of the Arctic while eating some food. She wasn’t sure what to do. No one else was around to talk to him for her, but she felt it would be inconsiderate if she walked away without saying anything.

“You’ve been in a coma for two weeks, y’know,” he said flatly. “I’ve already chewed Da Vinci out for sending you to such a dangerous place alone again.”

“Is that so…?”

“You’re such an idiot. You don’t have to accept every job she throws at you.”

“That’s not what happened. I wanted some time to myself.”

“Why?”

Connla became anxious before explaining, “Well… Because of what happened with Mother… I just wanted to let it out in a quiet place…”

“Without telling anyone?”

“But Mother told me that I should never show my emotions to anyone, lest they become a tool that my enemies can use against me.”

He audibly munched on an apple for a moment, then retorted coolly, “That’s so stupid. Then again, I’m not one to talk, given how worn out I am of killing all the time. In any case, this new life of yours is not the same as before. A lot of people in this place wouldn’t treat you like Aife did. You don’t have to be so nervous around everyone.”

“Does that include you? Even though you’re not the Cuchulainn I fought in my lifetime?”

“Naturally.”

Connla was surprised to hear his unhesitant reply. She sighed and murmured, “I never thought you’d be like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because… well, you don’t really care about anyone, not even yourself. You hate your own existence, so I figured you would extend that hate to everyone else.”

“Who said I don’t care about anyone? Or is that just a half-baked assumption you made?”

“Um… I guess… it is…” she moaned and stared at her bare feet in shame.

Cuchulainn shuffled his body so that he sat facing the young Lancer. He grumbled, “Ridiculous. You have absolutely no confidence, do you? It seems I need to do something about that.”

“Like what?”

“Spending some time on the battlefield as allies for a change. Every time we meet in different worlds, we wind up being opponents. Now’s the opportunity for us to follow Master as partners. However, I can’t do anything if you’re going to be so scared of me all the time. You need to understand something – regardless of what I look like or how I behave, I’m still your father. No amount of corruption, manipulation or brainwashing will ever change that.”

She blinked, thinking back about the part of the dream where the other Connla confided in the other Cuchulainn about her true feelings. His words were so similar that she wondered if there was any point in telling him what she experienced during her long slumber.

“Make no mistake,” Cuchulainn said. “Aife may have hated you deeply, but my love is equally as strong. There’s nothing to worry about anymore.”

Connla’s chest felt heavy all of a sudden, and her throat tightened up. She remembered her fight against Berserker Lancelot and of his final words:

_“Don’t cry… Start over…”_

She looked into Cuchulainn’s eyes, realizing what she had been missing this whole time.

“You say you love me. But I… don’t know what love is.”

“Hm?” he raised an eyebrow.

“No one ever taught it to me.”

They fell silent for a short while. The arctic winds howled outside, filling the chilly atmosphere around them with breathy, haunting screams.

Connla eventually said, “Maybe I’m so nervous because… I never believed in love. If I don’t know what something is, then I can’t believe in it, right? All I’ve ever had faith in is my own talent and resilience to struggle against everything the world throws at me. I could only believe in being self-sufficient, thinking solely of my own survival. Even though I’ve been in Chaldea for some time, I still don’t truly understand how to have faith in others. Of course, that means I don’t know how to love others either.”

“I see,” Cuchulainn whispered. “It is difficult for you to rely on anyone for advice, so you run off to cry in some quiet corner.”

“Mm. But I’m so tired of trying. I try and try and try, and it never seems to pay off.”

“Then it just means you’re trying too hard.”

He reached his hand out and snatched her shoulder, forcing her close to him. He picked her up and laid her face-down on his lap, covering her with his dark mantle as she nuzzled her face against his chest. He turned back to sit on the window sill like a lounge chair, then muttered, “Take a break.”

“…”

“What is it? There something you want to say?”

Connla stared at the billowing snow and white-capped peaks outside. “I wanted to, but… it sounds kind of silly. I think you would laugh at me.”

“Do I look like someone who would laugh?”

“Um…”

“Just say it.”

“Well… I had a really strange dream. It was so intense, as if I was the passenger in someone else’s life. It was so scary, yet I met some good people and had all sorts of adventures with them.”

“That so? Tell me everything about it. I’m in the mood to listen to a story or two.”

“Mm.”

* * *

After news spread of Connla’s reawakening, the staff and Servants visited her to see if she was okay. She still felt exhausted from the double whammy of fighting Berserker Lancelot and experiencing that long dream, so Cuchulainn Alter asked Ritsuka to give her some more time off until she recovered. Now that she didn’t have any serious obligations to worry about, she retreated into Chaldea’s massive library and found a computer she could use. It took some time for her to learn how to use it, but the cynical Caster known as Hans Christian Andersen showed her enough of the basics to at least use some word processing software.

Now a blank document lit the screen, and the blinking cursor beckoned Connla to start typing whatever words came to her mind. With the first few flicks of her fingers, she began to key in letters one at a time. Her typing skills were extremely slow at first, but as she gained practice throughout the coming weeks, her speed and accuracy would gradually improve. A record of the original _E Pluribus Unum_ journey that Ritsuka went through helped Connla add various comparisons and similarities to spice things up.

Along with going on Rayshift missions and doing chores around Chaldea, it would take around a year for Connla to finish the rough draft of her story. Shakespeare and Andersen helped her along the way with edits and critiques that refined the tale into something everyone could read. Although she didn’t feel it was perfect, it captured enough of her two-week venture into a parallel world that she could upload it to Chaldea’s database as a detailed record. Whether or not anyone would read it was debatable, but she didn’t want the adventure she experienced to be forgotten. Sometimes she would go back and read it to remind herself of the hardships she shared with the other Connla, who had never been aware of her presence the entire time.

As for the title, she drew inspiration from Nightingale’s speech to Edison about how they were fighting for a new era. Connla could connect that to Chaldea’s struggles, so she used the Latin phrase as its title:

 _Novus Ordo Seclorum_ (“New Order of the Ages”)

* * *

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Holy hell, another one done. Seriously, you guys – I’ve been running on fumes through December since I spent most of the creative fuel writing during NaNoWriMo 2018. I was determined to finish this though, so I pushed myself as hard as I could. What else can I say that I didn’t mention in LGF and OE’s ending notes? I should thank all of the people who created Fate/Grand Order in the first place, as well as any and all readers who perused this story. Whether it was just one chapter or the whole thing, your time really does mean a lot to me.

“Any more ideas for Connla in the future?”, you ask? Oh, heck yeah! But I can’t write anymore. I’m literally at my limit here. Perhaps around summer or next NaNo, there will be more content for you all to enjoy. Until then, I’m gonna give my brain a much-needed break. I’m always interested in hearing which Servants you’d like to have her interact with though.

If you have any comments, suggestions or questions, feel free to send a private message to me, a review for the story, or send me a tweet @benit149 (more likely to see it that way). Happy Holidays and see you sometime in 2019!

\- Benit149, 2018


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